Trygg Learns a New Word...and uses it.

I get up early this morning. Today, without prompting from Trygg. I go out to the kitchen. Trygg provides the conundrum. Trygg had already made the coffee. On the other hand, he's sitting at the table in his bathrobe reading the paper. He looks sulky. Again.

We have a rule. No reading at the dinner table--or, in this case, the breakfast table. Still, I don't say anything. I pour my my coffee.

"I know what your going to say. No reading at the table. I just didn't think you'd be up this early. I let you sleep in. And I did make the coffee."

(Actually, he didn't make it. I set it up the coffee pot the night before, but he plugged it in.)

"Did I say anything?" I ask.

"It was a prebuttal."

(A prebuttal?)

Then I remember. We were watching John King USA the night before. (I think Trygg has a crush on Gloria Borger but I don't say anything. He's still young and still gets embarrassed talking about things like that.) But I digress.

Anyway, last night Gloria Borger used the word, prebuttal. Trygg got up and went to his iPad. I didn't think anything of it because after John King we watched Arsenal beat Blackpool. (Trygg is an Arsenal supporter. He cheered for Wolverhampton for me the other day, so I returned the favour and rooted for Arsenal last night. So, I thought Trygg was just checking the sports fixtures.)

Now, it's prebuttal.

I ask him if he'd like me to fix breakfast. He said he already had something to hold him til later. I take my coffee inside and turn on the television. I flip through the paper.

"Where's the business section?"

"On the table next to you."

I see it, pick it up and start reading. Trygg is reading the sports section. Now I know why he's sulky.

"I am a cat. I eat fish. I like eating fish. Specially when you cook it en papillote, with lemon slices and dry, white wine--it's delicious. And I do hunt fish. Thus, I am not opposed to hunting for fish in general principle. Agreed?"

(Actually, Trygg doesn't hunt for fish. He catches fish. And, since he did buy his fishing gear with the money he saved up from his allowance and doing extra chores, I don't say anything.)

"Agreed."

"Now, what I don't understand is how anyone can call catch and release good sportsmanship. I mean, I do catch fish. I do eat fish. But I catch what I can eat and I eat what I catch. Why would anyone torment and torture a fish, catch it, and throw it back? If you are going to eat it, catch it. No problem. However, if you're going to catch it, eat it."

I try to give Trygg a reassuring pat on the back.

Maybe there is something to this whole prebuttal concept.

Even the cat winks =^.~=

Regards,

Slim

Mail slimfairview@yahoo.com

Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview

Trygg Likes Miranda. How do I know?

Miranda has a cat. How do I know this? I am watching Sex and the City. Why? This is what happened.

I'm channel surfing. It is my night for the remote. Trygg walks by. He sees me pass Sex and the City. He asks me for the remote. We both know it's my night for the remote. However, he let me have one of his nights last week so I can hardly say, no. I give him the remote.

He clicks back to Sex and the City. He thought it was Sex and the Kitty. Still, that is not what really caught his attention. What really caught his attention was the fact that Miranda has a cat lying in her bed. Trygg is very big on the issue of cats in the media. Specially on television.
As Trygg put it:

"Did you ever see a sofa in a movie theatre?"

"No."

"That's why you never see cats in movie theatres."

We watch Sex and the City. Carrie walks her boyfriend's dog. Trygg gives me back the remote. I start to set up the coffee for the morning. Trygg sees me starting to turn out the lights and knows that bedtime is scant seconds away. He sits by the door to go out. Very nonchalant. He doesn't really expect this trick to work. It doesn't. Off we go, to bed. And to sleep. Me, straight away. Trygg, goes to lie on the back of the sofa. I don't really know what time he went to bed.

This morning, Trygg sees me watching football. Wolverhampton v. Everton. Trygg is still feeling guilty about what happened two weeks ago. I'm a Wolverhampton supporter. Trygg is an Arsenal supporter. My team is in the bottom three. Trygg's team is in the top three.

Bragging rights are one thing. Trygg was a bit mean spirited about it. What bothers him the most is that I decided to just man up and take it. That made Trygg feel worse. Then I felt guilty because I knew that it would. Detente.

This morning he comes in and sits beside me on the sofa. The Wolves--0, lose to Everton--3.

Trygg is rooting for the Wolves. I don't say a word. He looks up at me, and pokes me.

"What?"

"I'm rooting for the Wolves."

"Why?"

"The Wolves are in gold.

"And?"

"Well, after all, I am a "golden" Tabby." (Officially, he's an orange Tabby. Still, his words, not mine. And I do appreciate the sentiment.)

My Wolves lose. Trygg is sympathetic. I get up to get dressed to leave. By the time I leave Trygg is already gone. Even the cat winks =^.~=

Regards,

Slim


Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview