I especially don't like cats when they hang around my ankles at a restaurant with outdoor seating. Last night at a beachfront place in La Herradura, there were three of them. A dark shaggy misfit with young, twin yellow and white accomplices. I spotted them at a far table when we arrived and noted happily that they were at the other end of the place. Well, the second the waiter brought the gambas pil-pil, there they were. Under, around, shiftly little ankle warmers. I tried making brutish, throat-clearing noises at them. They looked at me like I was a little nuts, but since I still had an aromatic plate on my table, they weren't about to am-scray.
Frustrated and getting the "why can't you just let it go" face from Joe, I made a quick decision. I filled my water glass and instead of bringing it to my lips, I tossed it at them. Done!
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