Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Run, Kitty, Run: A Love Story
Moving to a new area can be tough. You leave behind friends and all that you know. When I moved to my current state (no, not the state of confusion), the only person I knew was my boyfriend, Mark. That was soon followed by the acquisition of a super sweet cat, Mittens.
Mittens was polydactyl. This genetic mutation caused him to have extra toes on all his paws, and hence, he always looked like he was wearing mittens. Hey, I can't be creative 24/7.
This was a special cat - he really had a fun personality. One of his favorite games involved dangling a piece of ribbon or tissue in front of him while he hid under the couch or chair. He'd wait for a second and then bolt out from under the furniture and grab whatever you had in your hand and carry it to the opposite end of the house. Mittens would do this a hundred times a night, if you were willing. Mark loved to play this game with Mittens.
Mark came to my home nearly every evening and usually let himself in. On this particular night, I was using the master bathroom when he arrived and had left the door slightly cracked. Awkward, since we were still in the phase of dating where you don't want your boyfriend to know that your body does not fully utilize all the food you eat, and you do produce waste products via your intestinal tract, if you get my drift (ditto for flatulence, sweat and barf). Not that I'm vain, just concerned about efficacy, so get that mind out of the gutter.
I yelled out for Mark to have a seat in the living room, I'd just be a sec!
No job is complete until you do the paperwork, and that was just what I was finishing when a flash of black and white swiped the toilet tissue from my hand and ran down the hall towards Mark. Boy, I wish I could tell you that I hadn't used said tissue yet. Really, I'd love to tell you that...
Jumping from my throne, I looked down the hall as a slow motion memory of Mittens running toward Mark with the tissue burnt itself in my brain. I can still see Mark looking over the top of the newspaper, beginning to smile...right before the next look of pure horror appeared.
THAT guy still married me. Some days, I thank God. Other days...I wonder what he was thinking.