Harry And The Lawn Proletariat


People who don’t like Mondays probably wouldn’t like my complex here in Pinellas Park.

A couple of years ago, a welcome change was made. Instead of the complex having lawn workers doing their bidding on Fridays (every other week from October to April, every week in the summer), they moved their worked to Mondays. This seems to work out a lot better for us, because we get a lot of rain in the summertime. That means instead of having our Saturdays at risk (which really isn’t fair to us, since we don’t control the weather), they just come during the next available weekday.


My cat Harry, like many other cats, has an aversion to sharp noises.

(For those of you new to the blog, I’ve known Harry since Christmas of 2008, taken care of him on and off since 2010, and permanently since early 2015. He’s a tabby, and will turn eight on July 4th. That will make him, in human terms, 48 years old…and I’ve known Harry since he was nearly a babe.)

When the lawn people come, cutting the grass and whacking out of shape weeds, Harry usually makes a bee line for under my bed or under a reclining chair in the enclosed patio if I’m not home. Not even catnip flavored Temptation treats (his favorite) can coax him out once he sets up camp in either place.

By noon, maybe 1pm at the outside, it’s all over with. If I’m home, I usually give Harry a treat for surviving the “ordeal” and life returns to normal.

Until the following Monday..


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