Trygg Celebrates St. Patrick's Day

I wake up a bit later than usual. On my own. Without benefit of Trygg.

I head to the bathroom. The door is closed. I knock. No answer. I knock again. Trygg opens the door. He's standing there in his bathrobe holding his toothbrush.

"Sorry."

"Isn't it always the way?" he says. "You always complain that I wake you early. Today I let you lie in and I can't even have a few moments to myself."

He leaves. I feel guilty.

I brush my teeth. The door opens. Trygg comes in, gets his dental floss out of the cupboard and leaves.

I go into the kitchen to get my coffee. I see him watching the parade. He's ignoring me. I go to pour my coffee. I see a shamrock and a note by my cup. "Happy St. Patrick's Day." I see a muffin with a slice of ham on it. The muffin is green. So is the ham. (It's the thought that counts.) None-the-less, I go in to thank Trygg and to apologise.

I put my arm around him.

"Happy St. Patrick's Day, Trygg."

He doesn't respond.

"I'm sorry. Thanks for the shamrock. And the green muffin and ham."

He looks up at me. (He looks up to me, too. He just won't admit it.)

"I wanted to make things nice for you. I saved the ham from St. Valentine's Day."

He sees the doubt.

"You're not supposed to eat the ham. It's the thought that counts."

I give him a hug. The pipers come on. He meows. Soon, I hear more meows. His friends are waiting for him outside. I let him out. I know I will see him later. Much later.

Even the Cat Winks. =^.~=

Regards,

Slim

Lunch with Trygg

Trygg invites me to have lunch with him. I already know this is a byob. Well, I go with a ham sandwich. Trygg has a few different things out to pick on. The same different things I've put down for him to eat.

I sit down, he samples my sandwich. I try to make small talk. He meows. Lunch, as you would imagine is very short and uneventful. Trygg signals that lunch is over when he starts to lick himself clean. I thank him for inviting me. He rubs his head on mine. I don't want to seem ungracious, so I rub my head on his.

Now, of course, I am obligated to return the invitation.

There is a lot to learn about the social life of cats.

even the cat winks =^.~=

Why do cats come home wet?

Trygg comes home. Through the window. I can see that he is wet. I follow him into the kitchen where he goes to check on his food. (He doesn't come out and say it, but I know he suspects me of nibbling at it.)

My wife looks at Trygg. "He's wet," she says.

"I know."

Trygg looks up, sees us looking at him, looks at me, looks at my wife, looks at me again, and his expression says it all. Blank stare:

"What's wrong?"

We start laughing, get towel, dry him off. He goes to eat. We are still wondering how he got wet. He denies he ever was wet. The towel's already been through the laundry, evidence gone. Another mystery.

Even the cat winks =^.~=

Regards,

Slim

Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview

Moderation and Cats

"Moderation on occasion is exhilarating. It prevents excess from acquiring the deadening effect of habit." From the quotations of Slim Fairview. Even the cat winks. =^.~=