{ Tuesday, April 11, 2006 }

What Passes for an Event in My Life


"What? What's he doing?"

"You can't see that? He's on the counter! How'd he get up there?"

"What counter? Where?" (am now looking on top of the cabinets, because apparently I don't know what the counter is.)

"On the counter. In the kitchen! How'd he get up there? Did you put him on it?"

"No. I did not put the cat on the counter. Where is he?" (now getting up to see the cat on the counter)

"He's right there! Don't you see him?"

"ISIS! Get down!" (down has now become a three syllable word)

"Did you put him up there?"

"No... ISIS! Get your head out of the food bag! DOWN!"


(walking toward the cat like I think I can heave twenty-three pounds of bulky fur and not-so-tiny daggers out of a food bag and off of a chest high counter.) "What do you think you're doing?"



"Mrrrraaaaoooww!" (hops down)

"Ow! Asshole! No! Stop it!" (flying leap onto the couch to protect my poor ankles)

"Aw, you made him get down."


"Wow. He can get up there. That's something." [digging around in the coffee table debris]


"There used to be a bag of Pounce in here. Now there's not. Sorry, Kitty."

"You want to give him a treat? For getting onto the counter and then attacking my legs when I made him stop? I am bleeding. He doesn't get a reward for making me bloody."

"But he's hungry. And he got up there all by himself. I'm kinda proud of him."

"I'm kinda proud of me. Did you see how fast he hopped off of there when he realized I was coming? He knew that was bad."

"He had a goal. And he acheived it. He did something!"

"He was standing on the kitchen counter with his head in the food bag."

"I know! He figured out how to get up there all by himself! He was hungry and he found his food!"

"Of course he can get onto the counter top for food."

"He's not very smart. Or graceful. Very few things motivate him."

"He's not that dumb. And I am bleeding."

"Clearly, we have very different goals."

posted by mary ann 11:53 PM