Gracie's Got a Crush

Every night last week, Gracie jumped onto the window sill and stared across the street. Her rigid posture, the blank look in her eyes, had me thinking she was auditioning for “America’s Next Top Model.” But no. Across the street, my neighbors had erected an electric sheep for the holidays. It terrified Gracie. Or she wanted to mate with it, creating a cat-sheep hybrid, that if you saw it, you’d never stop screaming. What would we call this freak? A “cheep,” of course.

I thought I’d relax when I realized why my cat was acting  strangely. But things got spookier. Especially, when Gracie started bobbing her head, like the sheep. What next? Would she start grazing? Want to be sheared in the spring? To quote Shakespeare, ‘Not bloody likely!’

The only way to cure her was to have her meet this electric love interest and see if the affection was mutual. I took her in my arms, then, across the street.

The sheep was turned on. Figuratively speaking. Glowing, it lifted its head. Then banged it on the ground with enough blunt-force trauma to become a victim on "CSI." I put Gracie on the ground. She moved toward the sheep. Then, without warning,  his lights went off. My cat looked at me sadly. I knew what she was thinking, as I picked her up and walked her home. Real or electric, sheep or human. When you really need a guy,  they always seem to let you down.

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