So I’m sitting on the 96 tram from East Brunswick yesterday afternoon when a crazy looking lady gets on. You know the type: those people who look right at home on public transport with their mis-matched clothing and bizarre features like glitter hair clips and rainbow socks. She was carrying one of those plastic tartan $2 bags that are only used by people moving house or people without a house.

Weird lady sits down across the aisle from me, puts the $2 bag on her lap, unzips it and — wait for it — pulls out a cat.

I shit you not. A fully grown, long-hair domestic cat.

I was waiting for the cat to jump down and run like hell up and down the tram clawing passengers’ eyes out like our Napoleon would if he were in a similar situation, but this little furball was obviously used to such treatment as it sat calmly on the weird lady’s lap while she cooed loudly and kissed it on the head. After a while she turned it over, cradled it like a baby, and started grooming it with a brush.

Some ten minutes of grooming later the weird lady noticed with a start that she was nearly at her stop so she roughly shoved the cat back in the bag, zipped it up, and ran off the tram.

Who’d drive a car when such fantastic entertainment is available for free on public transport?