Previously posted in 2015.
So Wednesday morning I’m on the freeway bringing kittens to get spayed and neutered at a local veterinary clinic. Naturally, I’m late because the freeway is a parking lot. In the back of my SUV, 7 of the 11 kittens we rescued from Kern County are serenading me with a chorus of meows.
What lucky kitties. Our feral cat rescue rarely deals with domestics but when we learned these were scheduled to be euthanized for lack of adopters, we decided to help. And that’s how I found myself on the freeway Wednesday morning.
In front of me is a Chrysler hatchback with painted flames on the sides. We’re crawling at 3 mph yet he’s 4 car lengths behind the vehicle in front of him. You’d think a car like that would be driven by someone who tailgates, right? Well, you’d be wrong.Frustrated, I leave the freeway, taking the exit into my own neighborhood. The road runs parallel to the freeway so I can quickly re-enter, passing this bozo and dozens of other cars.
Now don’t get me wrong; I NEVER do this. Until Wednesday.
Unbeknownst to me, there’s a sign that prohibits exiting then immediately re-entering the freeway. Crap. Who actually looks at signs in their own neighborhood? After living here 31 years, I figure I know where I’m going.As I exit, I see a couple highway patrol cars up ahead, pulled to the side of the road. I figure there’s been an accident or something. Wrongo. Turns out the cops are there to ticket people like me. Naturally, I’m pulled over.
So this burly cop approaches my window wearing those reflective sunglasses all cops seem to have. You know the ones where you can’t see their eyes?
Me: What did I do, officer?
He: You aren’t allowed to leave the freeway and get right back on. There are 4 posted signs saying so.
Me: Seriously? I think you’re wrong. No way I could have missed 4 signs.
Okay, just kidding…It’s what I WANTED to say. Instead, I confessed I hadn’t seen the signs.
He: May I see your driver’s license?
He then takes it back to his car to check that I’m not a perpetual sign-ignoring criminal. While he’s gone, I’m wondering how I can avoid a ticket.
Hey, maybe I’ll try crying! I hear that usually works. But then I remember I only cry at touching animal commercials.
Okay then, I’ll just pay the fine and attend traffic school to get the ticket expunged from my record. Wonder if they still have those comedy traffic schools? May as well have some laughs while I’m paying my debt to society.The officer returns to my car.
He: Where are you going, anyway?
Me: I’m bringing these kittens to be spayed and neutered.
It’s then that he notices my car door placard and his face softens a bit. That’s when I have a glimmer of hope. Turns out the kittens are my ticket to not getting a ticket!
He: My wife used to rescue feral cats too. (Ah, there it is…)
He glances in back and sees the 7 kittens lined up in carriers. As if on cue, they begin their chorus of meows. This group happens to be particularly adorable, so I’m pretty sure I’m home free.
He: Okay, I’ll let you off this time. But don’t do it again.
Me: Not a chance, officer.
With a grin he hands back my license and says, “Thank you for what you do.”
And that’s how I was rescued by 7 kittens.
Now we’re even.
this is beautiful –
I love it Janet. Good for you, good for the officer.
I love this.
Thank heavens for those sweet kittens or Janet might be in jail.