LUCKY 777, ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME?

I hate to look a gift horse in the mouth, as the saying goes, but considering the run of ill luck I've had lately (and the nagging feeling that the universe it speaking directly to me through a freakin' bullhorn), I thought I might share the latest oddity here.

Well, you know how Mark and I build "good kitty karma" by looking after the forgotten and neglected felines of the world? Oh, maybe I haven't shared that here... let me back up and tell that story first. Sometime early last fall, we noticed some kittens scampering around in a parking lot at an office building in Fayetteville. Realizing that we'd stumbled upon a colony of feral cats, we instantly "adopted" them. We also look in on two that we call Barnes and Noble, because they hang out in front of the bookstore. Anyway, throughout the fall, all winter and spring, and even now that it's summertime, we go and check on our feline charges one to three times a week. Our two favorites are at the old IBM building, across the street from Walgreens, so we have a habit of trekking over there to buy canned food and Pounce first. We secretly nurture the hope that one day they will let us touch them, but physical contact has been pretty slow-going. They do recognize the car and will run up to it and meow in anticipation; they are generally eager to accept our treats, which we consider an honor (crazy how cat fanciers interpret things that way). Once in a while, we vary the routine and take leftovers from home or buy pouches of tuna. Last night, we had a little picnic there and fed them pieces of shrimp and Canadian bacon from the salad we brought with us. I know it sounds kind of strange, communing with the cats, but we are very attached to these whiskered little sprites. And that's where my tale begins.

We had called Tim's and ordered a super-salad to go, then dropped in at Walgreens for catfood on the way. We stepped up to the register, paid for our items and received $7.77 in change. We joked about it with the clerk, laughing among ourselves that it was our lucky night and that we should point the car toward West Siloam and make tracks over to Cherokee Nation. We didn't though... I mean, it was 9:30 and we hadn't had dinner and that super-salad was beckoning (plus I'm too much of a cheapskate to gamble!) Anyway, we pull up and I hop out to pick up the food. The waitress rings it up and says, "That'll be $7.77." Ooooh-eee-oooh. Isn't that freaky? Back-to-back $7.77 incidents! As soon as I opened the door of the car to get in, I said, "You won't believe what the total was!" Mark thought I was making it up.

Later on, we were driving home along 71-B through Springdale and saw a billboard advertising some sort of gaming, with cards reading "777"on it... I don't really consider that a positive harbinger, since that board has been there a while and had no direct relation to me, personally. It's just something I zero'd in on because of the other two happenings. And by that point, I was also longing for another brush with the ubiquitous triple-sevens.

So I'm wondering if I should've come home and played a few hands on Pokerstars? Am I getting ready to take a trip on a Boeing jet? Should I infer something about the seven days of the week? Seven phases of the moon? Seven seas? Wonders of the world? Colors of the spectrum? I'm not sure... But I'll tell you this, I'm kinda relieved it wasn't 666! Only kidding... I don't actually believe in all that "Mark of the Beast" hocus-pocus, owing to my personal convictions about its biblical misinterpretations. But I'm also not taking any chances! :-)

You know, come to think of it, there are a total of seven cats at that office building... Hmmm... Maybe there's something to building "good kitty karma" afterall...