Monday, October 24, 2005
A Tale of Two (or Three) Kitties
It was the breast of times, it was the wurst of times ...
Well, I'm no literary genius, but there sure have been a lot of boobs and weenies around this house tonight.
Tomorrow is Ben's birthday, and there has been much shopping and wrapping. My daughter has bought him a little statue of a bear on a scooter. Why? I don't know. She thought it was cute.
And she's five.
And I can tell you for sure, no matter what's been happening in the way of the domestic disputing (which seems to be better right now), that man loves his little girl bigtime. There has never been any question about where the sunshine was coming from since the day she was born. That little statue will be taking pride of place on his desk, come morning.
Anyhow, my daughter is way into the wrapping and decorating of the presents. She takes it very seriously and objected to the enthusiastic participation of the feline units in the festive preparations.
Therefore, after dinner and before bathtime, the cats were relegated to the bathroom, which is the only room I like to shut them into as it is far easier to clean up "accidents" off the tile floor than it is off the bedroom carpet.
The bath was already run and waiting in all its bubbly goodness.
After the wrapping was complete (accompanied by much artistic angst) I opened the bathroom door to find that the floor was awash in water and that Miss Tracey was considerably damper than had been at the commencement of the festivities. Neither of the other occupants of the room are talking.
A Special Human Investigative Technician (hereinafter referred to as S.H.I.T.) has been assigned to ascertain the truth of this outrage. The question still remains; was she pushed or did she jump?
All we know is that she's alive, her tail still resembles that of a drowned rat, and that she has a new and healthy respect for the perils presented by walking the edge of the tub.
And the total S.H.I.T. finds this amusing beyond description.