DO NOT LET CAT OUT

If my grandma had a tag name, it's got to be either "Don't Let Cat Out" or "Watch for Cat." She bombs the shit out of her crib with Sharpie markers just so the cat will never taste freedom.

The cat tags be everywhere. She has discovered every possible cat escape route that only an anxiety possessed, slightly morbid, grim, pandemonius imagination could visualize. Like maybe the cat could get out if it had a tiny spacecraft, balloons, or the super powers to melt into a liquid and trickle to freedom under the door.

It's not always about the cat though.

Sometimes her tags get a little sexy, Salt-n-Pepa style, like "Push In." Other times she's like really a positive role model, like "Push Up."

She can be folky and protesting against tyrannical household oppressors: "Do Not Turn" or "Do Not Push. Don't!"

She's got a bit of surrealistic wit in her too, as "Not a Hamper."

She can be an encouraging yet unyielding with affirmations like "May Have to Pull Hard."

When her tagging hasn't quite penetrated sufficiently, she has been known to slap up Ziggy comics for enhanced emphasis. Ziggy stares from his comic, his butter face pooting a little beige fart into the psyche for shutting, closing, turning, or pushing incorrectly (or even thinking of letting the cat out).

If you should find one of her Sharpie tags in a previously undiscovered zone, it will seem like a personal message from a higher order of poetry or sorcery.

It can be the exact most poignant answer you could ever ask for: "….I WILL push UP and I will not TURN!" Sometimes her tagging arrangements can develop into haiku, or sentiments, with a tang of the erotic, " Push IN to turn ON."

There are sometimes fantastical wonders and suggestions of equine entities gathering nearby, maybe closing in on us spiritually, like this "Horses" tag.

Is she just fucking around with your mind? She owns these streets! She is all up in the pantry, tagging shit! And she might be so street that she's developed deep code for her drug deals. Could this mean "500 mega kilos of crack cocaine crack crack crack crack is available?"

Or is it a witchy hex on those that may dare to let the friggin' cat out? There is no escape, cat. You is owned. These streets belong to Gramma.