Category: Humor

The Curious Incident of the Cat at Night

.Reading time 4 minutes.

This diary starts on a rainy, autumn night in the bedroom of a typical southern home where only the cat is awake… Always watching.

 

12:34 am – The large one is stirring. He has been getting up every night. There is a potential that he is becoming nocturnal. After following him to observe his movements, I have observed that he goes to the human litter box. But every night? Why can’t he hold it – even the offspring do that? Does the adult male regress to infantile state?

12:48 am – After stirring, he finally rises. I’ve decided to investigate by following him into the small water closet.

12:55 am – It has been several minutes. He may or may not be asleep again in a seated position. I have taken up a surveillance position behind him.

12:58 am – Surprisingly, he got up very quickly and pushed the splash lever. I must have been cat-napping and now the door is closed. I do not like doors. I have committed a tactical error – I am stuck in the small water closet.

1:14 am – I still do not like being stuck in the small water closet.

1:22 am – I have swept my paw under the door 87 times and still cannot fit my head underneath. The fat canine changed positions but no one with thumbs has noticed. This is discouraging.

1:46 am – I have previously noted that both the male and female stand on the small metal platform daily – an action that makes them visibly sad. I am going to attempt this and monitor myself for mood change. The gray rectangle on the platform changed to 7.2. I do not know what this means but I feel no sadness.

2:11 am – I have run laps in the room and knocked over the trash receptacle. It was mocking me.

3:15 am – I scratched at the door until I saw the belt of the female’s robe dangle. I couldn’t resist playing with it. Then it fell on me. At least now I have a comfortable place to lay.

3:28 am – I repeatedly meowed loud enough that they should have heard me. They are definitely not becoming nocturnal.

3:38 am – I feel dehydrated. There is water, but it is inside the human litter box. I’m dubious.

4:23 am – I must drink. The surface is very slippery. I am wet now. And still thirsty.

5:04 am – I stood on the metal platform again. The gray rectangle says 7.1. I seem to be melting. I now understand why this thing makes the humans sad.

5:35 am – I think I hear stirring outside, but the snorting against the door tells me it must be the fat canine. He has no thumbs to work the knob and couldn’t figure it out if he did. Idiot.

7:10 am – The door opens. It is the male. I feel so happy to be free that I want to rub his leg, but I must shun him for at least two hours for his treachery. I run.

7:13 am – He put down food for me. Unshun…. Leg… Purrrrr…

 

(I’m sorry, Liza.)

 

 

My Dinner With Irma

.Reading time 4 minutes.

“Where should we eat?” I asked my family.

No reply. Not even a look up from their devices.

I stood empty and disappointed like Ferris Beuhler’s teacher… “Anyone? Anyone?”

“How about Chinese?”

This creates a sense of elation in one, deflates another, and I sense a form of tempered ambivalence in the one who just wants everyone to get along.

“Mexican?”

Groans all around.

“Hamburgers? Pizza? The sandwich joint?”

Nothing. But they’re all hungry. And I know they have ideas, tastes, and opinions. I just can’t pull them out when we decide to eat out. So I have to decide and bear the silent, smoldering wrath of whichever one doesn’t like my choice. This is my dilemma every time meal choices are in the offing.

Why can’t people just have an opinion and make up their mind?

Speaking of making up their mind, I had dinner with Irma Monday night. Understand that I live 300 miles from the east coast and 300 miles from the gulf coast. I have strategically and intentionally located myself to be close enough to readily enjoy the ocean without having to deal with those pesky hurricanes. Sure, we have weather issues here – ice and the occasional tornado. But ocean storms typically peter out long before they reach us and leave us only with wind and rain. This Irma though, she became a large, angry woman totally incapable of making a dinner decision – which makes her perfectly suited for my family (let me be clear – not the large, angry part, only in her indecisiveness).

We didn’t really prepare for our dinner date. I didn’t buy flashlights, batteries, bread, or milk. No, my crazy Atlanta neighbors tore the shelves down for those. I’m somewhat of a fatalist when it comes to that kind of thing. If it’s meant to be…

Sunday told us that she would still be a Cat 3 storm when she came knocking on Atlanta. She already had trouble deciding. She skipped the South Beach scene and decided Tampa was more to her liking. As she drove north and made her way across the state line, she turned on a dime and went west deciding Alabama was on the menu. Oh, she blew at us fiercely as she went past – dropped a bunch of trees and left millions without power. Spiteful hussy.

We didn’t lose power at my house. We live in the woods, yet surprisingly had no tree problems either. Two of my girls were home with us and one wayward daughter stayed at her school where they lost power and she had to eat cereal without milk for dinner – a choice made for her. We had fun hazing her by texting pictures of all of the power we were consuming at home. It wasn’t much fun after her phone battery died.

Then darkness fell and our stomachs rumbled.

“What do you want to eat?” I asked.

Absolute silence except the remnants of wind straining the treetops outside.

I wish someone in my life would make up their mind!

 

 

*Note: Although our brush with Irma was light, my thoughts and prayers are with all of those affected by her wrath.