LaurieJim
Paleo Meister (means really, really old)
- Joined
- Jun 16, 2006
- Location
- In the Beautiful South !!
Cat Lover or Not, this is Hysterical!
We've all had trouble with our animals, but I don't think anyone can top
this one:
Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate
my excuse, I always get the feeling that my boss thinks I'm lying.
On one recent occasion, I had a valid reason but lied anyway, because the
truth was just too darned humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had
sustained a head injury, and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next
day. By then, I reasoned, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage
on the top of my head. The accident occurred mainly because I had given in
to my wife's wishes to adopt a cute little kitty.
Initially, the new acquisition was no problem.
Then one morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my
wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen.
"Honey! The garbage disposal is dead again. Please come reset it."
"You know where the button is," I protested through the shower
pitter-patter and steam. "Reset it yourself!"
"But I'm scared!" she persisted. "What if it starts going and sucks me
in?"
There was a meaningful pause and then, "C'mon, it'll only take you a
second."
So out I came, dripping wet and butt naked, hoping that my silent outraged
nudity would make a statement about how I perceived her behaviour as
extremely cowardly.
Sighing loudly, I squatted down and stuck my head under the sink to find
the button. It is the last action I remember performing.
It struck without warning, and without any respect to my circumstances.
No, it wasn't the hexed disposal, drawing me into its gnashing metal
teeth. It was our new kitty, who discovered the fascinating dangling
objects she spied hanging between my legs. She had been poised around the
corner and stalked me as I reached under the sink. And, at the precise
moment when I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly
offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws. I lost all rational
thought to control orderly bodily movements, blindly rising at a violent
rate of speed, with the full weight of a kitten hanging from my masculine
region.
Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome. Men,
in this predicament, choose only the "flight" option. I know this from
experience. I was fleeing straight up into the air when the sink and
cabinet bluntly and forcefully impeded my ascent.
The impact knocked me out cold.
When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me.
Now there are not many things in this life worse than finding oneself
lying on the kitchen floor butt naked in front of a group of "been-there,
done-that" paramedics.
Even worse, having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics were all
snorting loudly as they tried to conduct their work, all the while trying
to suppress their hysterical laughter.....and not succeeding.
Somehow I lived through it all. A few days later I finally made it back in
to the office, where colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me
about my head injury. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk
about, which it was.
"What's the matter?" They all asked, "Cat got your tongue?"
If they only knew!
Why is it that only the women laugh at this?
We've all had trouble with our animals, but I don't think anyone can top
this one:
Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate
my excuse, I always get the feeling that my boss thinks I'm lying.
On one recent occasion, I had a valid reason but lied anyway, because the
truth was just too darned humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had
sustained a head injury, and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next
day. By then, I reasoned, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage
on the top of my head. The accident occurred mainly because I had given in
to my wife's wishes to adopt a cute little kitty.
Initially, the new acquisition was no problem.
Then one morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my
wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen.
"Honey! The garbage disposal is dead again. Please come reset it."
"You know where the button is," I protested through the shower
pitter-patter and steam. "Reset it yourself!"
"But I'm scared!" she persisted. "What if it starts going and sucks me
in?"
There was a meaningful pause and then, "C'mon, it'll only take you a
second."
So out I came, dripping wet and butt naked, hoping that my silent outraged
nudity would make a statement about how I perceived her behaviour as
extremely cowardly.
Sighing loudly, I squatted down and stuck my head under the sink to find
the button. It is the last action I remember performing.
It struck without warning, and without any respect to my circumstances.
No, it wasn't the hexed disposal, drawing me into its gnashing metal
teeth. It was our new kitty, who discovered the fascinating dangling
objects she spied hanging between my legs. She had been poised around the
corner and stalked me as I reached under the sink. And, at the precise
moment when I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly
offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws. I lost all rational
thought to control orderly bodily movements, blindly rising at a violent
rate of speed, with the full weight of a kitten hanging from my masculine
region.
Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome. Men,
in this predicament, choose only the "flight" option. I know this from
experience. I was fleeing straight up into the air when the sink and
cabinet bluntly and forcefully impeded my ascent.
The impact knocked me out cold.
When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me.
Now there are not many things in this life worse than finding oneself
lying on the kitchen floor butt naked in front of a group of "been-there,
done-that" paramedics.
Even worse, having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics were all
snorting loudly as they tried to conduct their work, all the while trying
to suppress their hysterical laughter.....and not succeeding.
Somehow I lived through it all. A few days later I finally made it back in
to the office, where colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me
about my head injury. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk
about, which it was.
"What's the matter?" They all asked, "Cat got your tongue?"
If they only knew!
Why is it that only the women laugh at this?
brutal dude! you know that feeling when a cat scratches you, it hurts more than a normal scratch... *wince, shudder*
