Gimli smiles in his sleep. While the dogs hint that they are dreaming of play by running and gurfing in their sleep, this cat relaxes completely. Sleep is the only time that Gimli is truly relaxed. Clearly, Gimli dreams about… sleeping.
Archive for pets
Since I didn’t take a college level class on how to draw Grumpy Cat, a textual comic strip of a daily scenario in this house.
The first frame is a drawing that represents a cat, sitting on a closed toilet seat, staring at the person sitting in the bathtub. The cat is unreadable, like the world’s best poker player. He is a mix of saucer eyed Keane drawing and Scooby Doo haunted house painting with moving eyes. The cat is creepy. The person in the bath is awkward and cartoonish with random globs of soap bubbles that they failed to rinse. The bather has all the grace and beauty of Laurel AND Hardy. The first drawing in this comic strip is more Edward Gorey than Norman Rockwell.
The cat in the middle frame has transformed from stalker to sleeper. The cat is curled up and softly snoring atop the bather’s clean, folded towel. The shivering bather, squinting as wet hair drips mercilessly into soap stung eyes, makes futile attempts to coax the sleeping cat to move. The cat has the density of concrete, but clings to the towel like velcro.
In the final frame, the cat glowers on the bathroom floor. The cat is uncertain how he ended up on the floor, but he knows it wasn’t by choice. The bather has rubbed the towel on their wet skin to replace droplets of bathwater with cat hair. Holding a towel with one hand while attempting to pick cat hair off with the other hand, the bather mumbles unseemly comments about cats, but the cartoonist avoids the cliche of symbols in favor of the nondescript squiggle.
I never said it was a funny comic strip.
It’s important to begin your day with an annoying escapade so that the rest of your day seems better by comparison. For example, today, the dogs demanded to go out during Gimli the cat’s morning ‘race from room to room for no purpose’ exercise. I opened the front door for the dogs and Gimli dashed out the front door. Before I could reach down and scoop him up, he hopped into the house moat and took off running.
That is why, neighbors reading this, I was stomping around the muddy yard in the drizzly rain, wearing my pajamas and fuzzy pink bathrobe. I know you are sick of seeing me in that pink bathrobe for every morning misadventure. It is not a good costume for disguise and lacks the psychological powers of a Superhero cape. To make your ‘guess what my neighbor did’ stories better, I am going to do something about my poorly chosen wardrobe.
I’m going to look for a new robe. The mud might not come out of the pink one.
When we drive past a herd of cattle, Doug moos. When the dogs bark, I look out the window. When the cat meows, I answer him with a meow. According to Sawyer, I shouldn’t meow at the cat.
Sawyer has informed me that if alien life is listening to our conversations and they hear me meow, they will interpret it according to cat language. Since I don’t speak cat, I could be saying something that I shouldn’t say. When the alien life interprets my meow based on cat language, things could go horribly wrong. My meow could cause intergalactic war.
“Where do you get these ideas?”
“From my head. It’s full of stuff.”
When Gimli first joined our family, I thought his insistence on jumping in my lap every time I sat down in the bathroom was odd behavior. After Gimli developed an inexplicable habit of using his litterbox every time I went in the bathroom, I honestly missed the good old days of potty lap cat.
Now, Gimli has decided that his favorite bathroom activity is to stealthily blend into the tile until the moment that I am looking away from the toilet and beginning to sit. At that exact moment, he magically leaps from his hiding spot to standing on the seat just as my bare skin unexpectedly makes contact with an unseen furry creature.
I’m really starting to hate that cat door.