I was talking to Grendel the other day. The weather was dismal, had been for several days, and we were starting to get cabin fever. Well, he was, because he’s the one who doesn’t want to get his lovely Turkish Angora coat wet and soppy.
“Appearance is everything,” he blinked, slurping an out of place tuft back into line.
Judging from the time he spends grooming I would think that one’s from the heart.
“Well, you need to get out…chase something…run around the front door with a mouth full of critter,” I advised. You’re as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a weight watcher’s elevator.”
“Please! Not those stupid cat metaphors,” he moaned rolling his eyes, and stretching his chin onto his forepaws, sighing audibly and looking ahead and not at me, as if thus ensconced he might encourage me to go away.
“How about a little catnip?” I asked. “You always enjoy that.”
“Occh! How can you suggest that when it’s not even noon, and you know that makes me sleepy.
“Just trying to help”
“How about the string toy”, he purred with very little conviction.
You mean the one where I run around the living room dragging a piece of string like an idiot, and you just sit there looking interested enough to keep me going?
The corner of his mouth curled up just a little bit, as he contemplated the imagery of that last remark.
“You do that more than Charlie Brown tries to kick that silly football,” he grinned.
“I don’t know where you got the idea that it is my mission in life to keep you amused,” I offered. “After all, …”
“Wait a minute!” his head levered up. “Who entertains whom? Who climbs into impossibly small boxes and plastic bags with only his tail sticking out so that you and Gail can yuk it up?” he blinked triumphantly, his ears pointed forward to catch my response which he had serious doubts were forthcoming.
I just stared at him. Drives him nuts.
“Well,” he went on, “Who plays soccer with those stupid Christmas nuts you’ve got stashed all around this place? That never fails to crack you up.”
“True,” I replied. “You got me there.”
“The point is,” I added, “You’re moping around complaining that you’re bored, and yet whenever I offer something to do there’s always something wrong with it.”
I gave him some serious eye-to-eye and he turned his head away. No response. Didn’t want to hear about it.
“You remind me of some of the dive club members,” pushing the point beyond reasonable limits for a cat’s patience, but the thought popped up because it makes an appearance every now and then.
Sometimes divers in the club complain that they don’t get enough wet time, but we never see them at one of our local group dives. This year we have a nice selection. Let me remind you:
1. Doggie dives monthly. Comes with a great lunch and socialization and compressed air. What more could you want?
2. July 21st : Night squid dive with Woody at Wetherill
3. August 26th : Nubble light dive in Maine with hosts K&L A great trip.
4. September 26th : Another Nubble light dive. If you went to the last one I doubt you’ll miss this one. “Get ‘er done!
The shore dives have a record of being easy and fun and great get-togethers.
I looked up and saw that Grendel was fast asleep. Nothing cures insomnia like a self righteous moralist.
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