My wife and I were watching TV this evening when I paused the show for a bio-break. Unbeknownst to my wife, one of our cats pushed his way in whilst I was in the bathroom. From her vantage point in the living room, this is what she heard:
Hey there little buddy, glad to see you are still alive. Some days it’s hard to tell if you are dead or just sleeping. Yeah, I know I should pay more attention to you but you pick the worst times to wake up and want to take over my life. So either go talk to her or go back to sleep because you’re getting nothing from me right now. Did you hear what I said? Stop that! You’re gonna make me miss.
At this point the cat is leaning over the bowl, reaching in with one paw and I’m taking emergency evasive maneuvers, trying find a spot where the bowl is and the paw isn’t, all while simultaneously standing on one foot, trying to scoot him away with the other and wondering what the wife would say if I proposed installing urinals, or at least better door latches.
All right. All RIGHT! Let me finish up here and I’ll give you one minute. Sixty seconds, not a second more, OK?
Sound of flushing. Hand washing. Silence ensues. Twenty seconds in he rolls on his back. Not thinking, I take the bait and start rubbing his tummy, whereupon he bites the crap outta me, whips out the claws and starts in with the bunny kicks.
Aaaahhhh! OK, that’s it. That wasn’t even close to 60 seconds, but you are done for the night. I hope you enjoyed it.
I step out of the hallway and right into her expectant gaze.
“You OK there, minute-man?”
“I might need some lotion” I replied, looking over the cuts on my hands.
“You shoulda thought of that ahead of time. I think you broke a world speed record. Was it really that urgent?”
“I dunno. You’d have to ask him.”
“Ohhh no. He’s in time-out for the night.”
Oh, that’s a nice show of solidarity, I thought.
“I hope he didn’t make a mess in the bathroom or he’ll be in timeout for a week.”
So much for solidarity. “I’m injured and bloody and you’re worried he made a mess in the bathroom? Gee thanks.” I settled in next to her on the couch with the hint of a pout developing on my face. “You want to kiss it and make it feel better?” I held out my injured hands.
“I’m not falling for…wait, what happened to your hands?”
“Mr. Jinx bit and clawed the shit out of them.”
“We should make some popcorn. You get started and I’ll go get the ointment.” She got up and headed for the stairs.
“Ummm, OK. You’re acting kinda weird. Did I miss something while I was in the bathroom?”
“I think we both did.”
“Was it good?”
“You’d be surprised,” she replied and disappeared into the stairwell.
I went to the kitchen and dug out the big popcorn bowl. Mr. Jinx jumped onto the counter to inspect it for stray bacon. All our food is inspected for bacon. We don’t ever have bacon in the house but that doesn’t seem to matter to the inspection crew. Satisfied that no bacon was to be had, he turned to watch me.
“You got any idea what she’s talking about?”
I took his silence for a “no.”
“That’s OK. Me neither. Women, huh?”