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 uncomfort-
able. 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
behavior as extremely cowardly.
Sighing loudly, I squatted down and stuck my
head under the sink to find the button. It is thelast 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?