Excuse me sir, your bag is hissing

One day I am going to write a blog about bus zen, about finding a way to relax amid the peeping chicks, puking children and bare bellies on the long, bumpy, public bus rides. Bare bellies you ask? Yes, or, as I like to call them, muffin tops. The women here have a tendency to wear super tight clothes, which often results in a fold of skin (or fat) that falls over the waist of the pants (I must admist I am working on one myself). Last week I rode for an hour with a muffin top resting gently on my shoulder.

This morning I was unlucky enough to not get a seat, so I planted one hip to the side of a seat back, locked one leg and drifted off in search of the bus zen. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the man sitting in the seat on which I was leaning had a little flour sack tied up and sitting on his lap. Every once in a while he would hold the bag up and examine it. I thought maybe there was food or something in it the way he was being so careful. But later I saw a pink nose and a pair of little eyes sticking out of a hole in the bag.

"What the hell is that," I asked myself. Because I couldn't really tell if the thing with the nose and eyes was a alive, I thought maybe the guy had killed an animal and planned to skin it and eat if for dinner. But then a furry little white paw sprang from the hole and five sharp claws slashed across the man's stomach. "Meow!!"

It was a kitty! I love kitties, so I asked the man if I could take a picture of it. I wasn't able to get a great shot of the cat's face in the hole, but I did manage to capture the man's double thumb.