Whoa, you must be thinking. This lady's life is so dull that all she has to blog about are her stupid pets!
Au contraire. The Lord is moving so intensely right now that I cannot keep up wth Him. But whenever I try to sit down to write about what He's doing in my life, the demon-kitty jumps up in my lap. It's hard to think with his needle-sharp claws kneading my face and his buzz-saw purr in my ears.
Like he's doing right now. Aargh!
So, why don't you toss the cat? you are wondering. Oh believe me, I try. But as the song says, the cat comes back, with a packing peanut or rubber band dangling from its mouth, thinking I've just initiated a game of fetch.
Which I suppose I have.
I try desperately to type between fetches, before Chairman comes bounding back to my lap and drops his prize on my keyboard. He knows I'm a captive audience when I'm blogging. He's no dumb bunny. One day, he looked me right in the eye and stepped on the delete key . . .
Greg and I suspect that our kitten is a bit OCD. He really does torment us (mostly me) on a sort of a daily schedule:
7:00 a.m. The kitten gallops into the bedroom behind Greg when he brings me my morning coffee. He leaps into my lap and nuzzles my face with his snotty little nose, kneading my bare neck with his unsheathed claws. I attempt to simultaneously protect myself and drink my coffee without spilling it. I am not successful.
7:15 a.m. I get my Bible out and try to read. The kitten takes this as a cue to start the fetch game and scrounges up a packing peanut from somewhere in the house. I toss Chairman repeatedly from his perch atop my Bible and try to hide the styrofoam. But he always manages to find it and the game of kitten toss/fetch the peanut reumes.
7:30 a.m. I give up trying to read my Bible and head for the bathroom. Chairman follows me and shows intense interest in every step of my grooming process. He loves water--he's tried to join me in the shower more than once. I have to keep the toilet lid shut or Chairman will drink from the bowl. Today, he tried to climb into the sink to get a better look at my fascinating skin care regimen, but lost interest when he realized he could knock my $800 pair of glasses to the ground and play with them instead.
8:00 a.m. I flee the house and the demon kitten and head for work. When I arrive home that afternoon, Chairman is yawning innocently, perched atop whatever paperwork Greg left lying on the dining room table. I notice that the cube of butter I left out that morning has dwindled to an unappetizing lump and there are several dozen packing peanuts and other miscellaneous items strewn about the house.
If Scout could talk what tales she's tell . . .
But Chairman has a very important appointment with the vet this Thursday. He's getting tutored . . . and if you don't happen to be a Gary Larsen/Far Side fan, let me explain . . . he's having an operation that should nip some of his more agressive behaviors in the bud, so to speak.
We shall see. But for now, the kitten's ready for another game of fetch and I need to get him off the keyboard before he steps on the backspace but--------