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You just can't make this stuff up
So I'm leaving town for the weekend. Someone has gone to the trouble of copying some very important paperwork for me, and I am exceedingly grateful to her. I had them sitting in the middle of the end table in the living room, but that's not safe enough. So I set them on the table in the office -- the cleared table -- in the center with a new book I've been waiting months for. I go to the convention. I get back. The papers and book are on the table, undisturbed.
Then it looks like a wire has bumped loose in one of the filters -- so I set it up there as well, to remind me to look at it today. After a long day, I feel a bit odd (strange food and water will do that to you) so I hide in the restroom for a while, cool water to the face, etc.
Of course, I have a cat on my shoulders. Cats take a dim view of their servants; we can't be allowed to work in the kitchen unsupervised, much less the bathroom. We might use cortisone cream to brush our teeth or something.
Well, Max starts twitching in a very suggestive manner. It screams I am about to toss my cookies in your clean hair. So I take him off my shoulders and set him down, in hopes that he will toss on the tile. He slinks off -- I hear that sound every cat servant dreads -- the foam and/or hairball urp. I am glad this is over, although "over" is a relative word. I come out in a few minutes to see that he foamed the doormat and a little further, a dollar-sized spot on a tile. I get the stuff to clean it up. After, I head over to the table to get the papers, and -- Yes, you have guessed it. One of the cats (probably Max, but it could have been Merlyn earlier or even Maisie before 11:30 pm) hurled his liquidified dinner onto the papers and the book, and the cord of the expensive filter box.
Like I said: You simply could not make this up. No reader would believe you. Fortunately, the papers were in a manila envelope, so they are slightly soaked at one corner, but still usable. Book has survived, cord has been cleaned. But I REALLY had other things in mind for this side of night.
There are days that I would cheerfully trade a cat or two to BevHale for Zoe the Dog of Chaos. Then I remember -- at least I can salvage the papers. If Zoe had gotten hold of them, she would have eaten the papers.
Then it looks like a wire has bumped loose in one of the filters -- so I set it up there as well, to remind me to look at it today. After a long day, I feel a bit odd (strange food and water will do that to you) so I hide in the restroom for a while, cool water to the face, etc.
Of course, I have a cat on my shoulders. Cats take a dim view of their servants; we can't be allowed to work in the kitchen unsupervised, much less the bathroom. We might use cortisone cream to brush our teeth or something.
Well, Max starts twitching in a very suggestive manner. It screams I am about to toss my cookies in your clean hair. So I take him off my shoulders and set him down, in hopes that he will toss on the tile. He slinks off -- I hear that sound every cat servant dreads -- the foam and/or hairball urp. I am glad this is over, although "over" is a relative word. I come out in a few minutes to see that he foamed the doormat and a little further, a dollar-sized spot on a tile. I get the stuff to clean it up. After, I head over to the table to get the papers, and -- Yes, you have guessed it. One of the cats (probably Max, but it could have been Merlyn earlier or even Maisie before 11:30 pm) hurled his liquidified dinner onto the papers and the book, and the cord of the expensive filter box.
Like I said: You simply could not make this up. No reader would believe you. Fortunately, the papers were in a manila envelope, so they are slightly soaked at one corner, but still usable. Book has survived, cord has been cleaned. But I REALLY had other things in mind for this side of night.
There are days that I would cheerfully trade a cat or two to BevHale for Zoe the Dog of Chaos. Then I remember -- at least I can salvage the papers. If Zoe had gotten hold of them, she would have eaten the papers.