OT [Fwd]: Cat got your tongue?
- From: "Nev" <nev@xxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Wed, 1 Mar 2006 20:55:05 -0800
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 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 buck 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
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 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 buck 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?
.
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