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Thursday night featured a full moon. Guido and some friends hiked on over to ArtsPark in Hollywood to participate in the monthly full moon drum circle. I drove out to Pembroke Pines to play music in my guitarist’s garage.
Having also stopped at the produce store and the liquor emporium for the week’s supplies, I arrive home with those. Guido, on the other hand, returns home with another kitten.
“I rescued a life,” she explains, as I stand there, gobsmacked. “It was running around the street with all that traffic! And it wanted to play. Especially after I fed it.” “It” because we can’t tell if it’s male or female yet.
I point out that the beast she just brought into our happy home is Number 7 — and it’s a black cat on the night of a full moon. I’m not superstitious and suffer no Wiccan tendencies, but even this configuration makes me uneasy.
It even LOOKS evil.
Your prayers are welcome.