Cats and taxis don't mix

I started driving a taxi in 2007. Within six months, I had had two accidents, neither of which was my fault. I still earned two points from my employer’s insurance company, however. Even a parking violation before the company policy was renewed would cost me my job, I was told by our insurance agent.

For the next three months, I was particular about the clients I picked up. I tried to drive people who looked clean-cut, safe. Old ladies, young couples, but not too young, tended to be my select market. I refused to drive families since I couldn’t afford, literally or figuratively, to stay in one place long enough for everyone to pile into my cab. I turned on my “off duty” sign often, in other words. I had to protect my job at all costs.

After dropping another octogenarian at the airport, I stopped to pick up a lady holding a tiny pet carrier but towing no other luggage. She jumped in my taxi quickly and shared her nearby destination immediately. She stepped out of my cab fifteen minutes later after handing me a $20 tip on a $12 fare.

After a short, overnight weekend, I resumed my seat behind the wheel of my usual cab fourteen hours later. I picked up a couple going to a fancy dress wedding thirty blocks away, about a seventeen minute trip if I hit just a fraction of the lights on green. "Elvis" and "Priscilla", her hair in a high, double-tiered bun, settled in for the trip.

Within a few minutes, Priscilla began to sneeze. And then Elvis began to scratch incessantly. I ignored their suffering and stayed focused on my route, not wanting to incur the wrath of the company insurance representative again.

Six blocks into the trip, I heard a half-howl-half-meow from the back seat of my taxi. Meaning to turn my head back around quickly, I couldn’t stop staring at the cat staring at me from in between the layers of Priscilla’s hair. The animal jiggled every time Priscilla sneezed and seemed to delight in Elvis’ obvious discomfort.

Had the postbox I hit not stopped the forward progress of my taxi, I think I would’ve reached the chapel without ever turning my head around, the scene was so comical. Thankfully, only a policeman was around to witness the accident. Convenient since I was heading to jail for reckless driving. While charging me, the officer was kind enough to inform me he’d gladly be testifying about my negligence since he actually could see me looking in the backseat for what he estimated was a full twenty minutes before impact. Apparently, the trip began in a neighbouring state with the officer watching the full length of it.

As I sat in the back of the policeman’s patrol car, an ambulance arrived to treat Elvis and Priscilla, one of whom was shocked back into life. Animal control arrived to extricate the frantic, thrashing cat from my taxi. A fellow driver stopped to collect my belongings from my ride and to relay the shocking news that I was relieved of my driving duties pending a full insurance investigation of the incident. Damn cat. I named her Lisa Marie.