I wake up on my own. I go into the kitchen to pour my coffee. Trygg is not around. Not in any obvious way. His dish is in the sink, so I know he ate. The newspaper is still folded up on the table by the sofa, so I just assume he went out early.
It’s a bit chilly. Instead of turning up the thermostat, I go back to bed. Trygg is adamant about conservation. I turn the thermostat up Trygg turns it down. My wife turns the thermostat up Trygg turns it down. The only time Trygg turns up the thermostat is when he isn’t feeling well. That much, though, I can figure out from his skulking about in his bathrobe and slippers with the thermometer poking out of his mouth.
I had some safety concerns about that so I bought an ear thermometer. Then, one day, I see Trygg waving it about.
“Why are you waving the thermometer about?”
“I’m not feeling well. This is an air thermometer. I’m taking my temperature.”
“Ear thermometer. You stick it in your ear.”
“I know that. I’m just shaking it down.”
Trygg is a bit embarrassed, but I digress.
As I’m drinking my coffee, I hear paper rustling. At first, I think Trygg is reading the paper. Then I realise that that is not the sound of a newspaper. In addition, Trygg doesn’t rustle the newspaper when he reads. He pointed that out to me directly one day when we were reading the newspaper together.
I turned the page. I see Trygg glaring at me.
“Is something wrong?”
“Do I rustle the paper when I read? Do I?”
“No.”
“Then why do you feel it necessary to teach me an object lesson by rustling the newspaper?”
Sometimes Trygg can be diplomatic. I’m not certain if this is one of those times or not. Trygg goes back to reading. I start turning the pages quietly. Thus, I know Trygg is not reading the paper. I get up to investigate. I follow the sound to the kitchen. Trygg is rooting around in a paper shopping bag. He sees me. I smile.
“Now that’s the way I like to think of you. My cat, playing about with a paper bag.”
“I’m not playing in a paper bag. Cats don’t play in paper bags. Kittens play in paper bags. I am not a kitten I am a cat. I am not playing in a paper bag. I just can’t find my keys. That’s all. I thought I might have accidentally dropped them into this bag. You can go back to your coffee now—and don’t turn up the thermostat.”
(Trygg sometimes gets embarrassed when caught being a cat. He won’t admit it, but he thinks he’s too old to play these games.)
I go back to bed. When I come back out, I pour another cup of coffee and sit down to read the paper. Soon, I realise I hear breathing. I look around. Then I see Trygg asleep in a paper bag under the side table by the sofa. It is then that I realise that the thermostat is up.
Poor Trygg. He won’t admit it, but he’s not feeling well. I’ll let him rest. I want him to be well for Easter. I haven’t told him what we’re having for dinner yet. I want it to be a surprise. Of course, he will probably be able to smell what it is before I get it into the house; but he will pretend to be surprised. He’s kind that way. I get up to get ready to leave. I let him sleep.
Even the cat winks =^.~=
Regards,
Slim
Copyright © 2011 Slim Fairview
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