Less than two weeks to the regular season opening game! I am excited but also a bit sad. My buddy during hockey games, Tweetie, won’t be with me this year. He liked to climb into my lap as I settled in for a game, tucking himself in as only a cat can, and purr like mad. I liked to think this wasn’t simply because I was wrapped in my fuzzy Tampa Bay Lightning blanket, and he just liked to sit on it.
All would go well until my team started screwing up, which generally wouldn’t take long. I would take a break from petting Tweetie to yell at the TV in frustration, and Tweetie would display his distaste by casting me a disgusted glower, rising indignantly to his feet with the threat to leave, while I sputtered, “I’m sorry, Tweetie. I’m sorry! Sit back down. I won’t do that again.”
He would tuck his tail around his body, shoot me a warning look just before he closed his eyes again, and settle back onto my lap to continue his 20-hour nap.
Until the Lightning screwed up again. It is like a reflex; I truly can’t help it. I would yell at the TV again, toss my arms into the air, and Tweetie would have to stand up haughtily and repeat the process. If this happened too many times, he would finally huff off to his blanket, and I swear he was shaking his head, muttering profanities, and making rude gestures with his paw.
I will miss him. A lot.