We are all in the gutter...

The other night I was just about to drive off in my car, away from the unruly ambience that is my work car park, when I noticed something lying in the gutter.  On closer inspection - yes I went over - I noted that it was a gorgeous black kitten with gigantic ears.

There are quite a few black cats around the area, so this is obviously the latest generation of cuteness.  It blinked its little eyes at me a few times, stretched, and then went back to sleep, clearly unperturbed by the peak hour sounds of the empty-headed jackass public servants coming and going.

Poor little thing; but I believe people come down every day to feed them tins of tuna and homemade lasagne or something and apparently they live in the storm drains, which isn't the best accommodation for a growing family of felines.  But me no judge, just like I don't judge people for choosing to live in Queanbeyan, and just like I don't judge people for putting those retarded stickers on their car rear windows advising the world how many loathsome little brats they have, so let's let it go.

I watched this cruisey little cat, and after I convinced myself that taking it home was probably not what the cat's immediate family would want, I thought to myself 'screw this working for a living shite'.  What would be so bad about living in a gutter anyway?  That cat looked totally chilled with its state of affairs.

Perhaps I too could live in a gutter, although given my total disgust at the idea of camping, it is not bloody likely.  I don't understand why people work all year and then go and live like a homeless person for a few days.  I find this very perplexing.  I haven't been camping since I was about 13, but in the event that it ever happened again, I imagine that after a few days I would be willing to sell my body on a street corner for one hour in a hotel room.

If I needed to rough it though, I would prefer a pretty little gutter in the Cotswolds in England, my old stomping ground.  It would likely get fairly chilly in the winter, which is most of the year, but I'm sure a dear old soul would take pity on me and pass me out a knitted blanket and a tin of cat tuna so all would be well.

We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars, and cleaning cat food out of our whiskers.  Who said that?  Someone notable, I'm sure.