I really miss her.
because a Reverend can't be wrong.
The night before last, I was sitting at my computer reading fan mail, diving into the Holy Gospel of the Lord according to Matthew, and listening to the wonderful sounds of John Mayer when, suddenly, John Mayer’s voice crackled and trailed off into nothingness. It took me a few seconds to realize what may have happened. Then, finally, I looked under my computer desk to see Toby (my cat) chomping happily away at my computer speaker wire. Apparently, this particular type of wire uses fish paste as an insulator, because he was really enjoying it.
I screamed about 27 cuss words and chased him off into the bedroom. Now Toby doesn’t generally chew on wires, unless his food dish is empty, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t. Jess was in the kitchen, so I asked her, “Does Toby have any food?”.
“Yes,” she replied, “But it’s still sitting on the counter so that Zoe couldn’t get into it. I sighed, put the food back on the floor, and decided I was too tired, too cranky, and too upset to bother fixing the wire that night and, instead, Jess and I decided to head off to bed.
After seeing us laying in bed for a few minutes, Toby decided he should pay me a visit. He jumped on to my chest and started kneeding the bread dough that I apparently have lodged somewhere in my chest. This wouldn’t be so bad except, when Toby starts kneeding bread dough, he has a tendency to drool the foulest smelling substance known to mankind. I pushed him off the bed and onto the floor and tried to go to sleep.
A few minutes later I hear him happily crunching on cat food in the kitchen. Thinking he was content, I started to doze off. Minutes later, I hear him in the den, hurkling up the cat food he just ate. Using the skills I acquired from my anger management course, I opted not to catapult him off my balcony and into the courtyard, and rolled over to go to bed instead.
I slept okay, until about six in the morning (on a Sunday) when Toby decided I should be awake. He jumped up on the bed and laid down next to me, placing his paw on my arm. He felt safe being close to me for a little but, until he decided he just wasn’t close enough. Instead of touching my arm, he wanted to be inside my arm. He stuck he claws out, and then gently placed his paw on my arm again, pushing down slightly until all of his claws were touching the bone in my arm. Then he started slowly dragging his paw across my arm, claws out, as if to pet me and tell me how much he loves me.
In my half-asleep state, I merely pulled my arm away from him, and started dozing off to sleep again. Realizing he could no longer get to my arm, he decided to go for the next best thing: my face. Needless to say, a few minutes later I was wide awake and making coffee.
Jess awoke from the noise I was making in the kitchen and asked me how I was. Always being one to wear my heart on my sleeve I told her, “Pissed off, miserable, and contemplating kitty kabobs for dinner.”
Time passed, and I eventually cleaned up the cat hurkle, fixed the speaker wire. Since my tool box is severely lacking, I fixed it with two butt connectors of different sizes and a collapsable wire nut. It looks like one of those pictures of the wires you see on TV when they show public service annoucements about electricity and how dangerous frayed wired and overloaded outlets can be.
Now that I’ve had some time to think about it, I’m not really mad at him any more. In unrelated news, I’m making a giant stew this evening. The first four repondants are welcome to attend. Can anyone recommend a wine that goes good with cat… I mean… um… chicken?