Alley-cat-itis

We live one house from a corner in our neighborhood. So we have neighbors not only to the right and left and across the street, but kitty-corner there are 3 houses and people behind us, as well. One of the corner families have a lot of pets, including several cats who have become several more cats until the place is crawling with CATS. This woman doesn't seem to appreciate the thought of indoor pets. Her cats roam the entire neighborhood and love our yard and deck.

Somewhere along the line, my sister, Toni, showed the Disney movie "Aristocats" to my kids. I don't know if they just like the term "alley cat" or if they think any cat found outside a house is an alley cat, but they use it in reference to the ones roamin' in our yard.

I've tried repeatedly to explain (being the English major that I am) that these cats are not alley cats. They have an owner (even if she doesn't take good care of them or contain them), they don't live in the city, and we have NO ALLEYs in our neighborhood. Regardless of my reasoning, Daelyn still calls them alley cats. Often.

A couple of days ago, we were eating dinner at the kitchen table which is surrounded by windows on two sides. (Come to think of it, we never had this problem with alley cats until we built our breakfast nook.) A stray dog ran through our backyard. Daelyn spotted it and yelled, "Look, mommy, a black alley dog!"

This "alley"-thing is absolutely out of control. I determined to redouble my efforts to convince the children that there are no alley-anythings running through our yard, because THERE ARE NO ALLEYS. I've really stayed on top of the kids and corrected them every time they use "alley" in a sentence. I figure they'll get so tired of hearing me correct them, they'll stop saying that. I was pretty sure it was working. Either that or no cats had run through our yard lately - until last night.

We're sitting at the dinner table, eating Don's birthday dinner. Daelyn glances out the window and ...

Daelyn: "Mommy, there's a black alley cat in our yard."
Deanna: "It's not black, baby. It was a different color. What is that color, Mama?"
Me: "It's a tabby cat, like our Frolic used to be, only a different color. And it's not an alley cat. There are NO alleys in our neighborhood."
Don: "It's not black, it's not an alley, and it's not a cat."
Dane: Staring blankly. I don't think he got it.
Deanna (giggling): "Daddy, I'm quite sure it was a cat."

Don stood up, reached over, and began closing the Roman shades on the windows. Aha! Thank God he thinks differently from me, or we'd all be checking into Sunnybrook Farms babbling about cats, dogs, and alleys after I drove the entire family nutso explaining the non-existence of alleys in our neighborhood for the millionth time.

Why didn't I think of that? If the blinds are closed, the children will never see the stray cats or the "alley dogs".

More often than I care to admit, God's mercy for me is named Don.