"For every trip to the vet, there's a car ride.", Satchel Pooch.
True or not this will get your attention !
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, Deb, 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 butt naked, hoping that my silent outraged
nudity would make a statement about how I perceived her behavior as
Sighing loudly, I squatted down and stuck my head under the 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 a 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 butt naked in front of a group of 'been-there,
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!
"At some point in life, everyone has gambled on a fart and lost." -- Tad...from Craig's List