I may not be able to post here for a short while. Okay, for a long while…a very, very long while! You can thank Gary for this gut-wrenching and heart-breaking turn of unfortunate events.
On the phone the other day, Dove asked to speak with our cat Rosie, who is the most mesmerizing, wondrous, and fascinating creature on the planet to her. Gary put the phone on speaker and then proceeded to talk like he was Rosie. If you are wondering what Rosie sounds like when he speaks English, well, he has a bit of high-pitched, whining, way of talking that is a mix between words and meowing. And a touch of Stooge Brothers.
Rosie/Gary informed Dove that I have called Rosie fat multiple times since the kids haven’t been home. I protested, but Gary handed me the phone and whispered, “She wants to talk to you.”
I took the phone and was greeted with, “I need to talk to you, young lady” in a rather stern and no-nonsense tone.
I admitted to calling Rosie fat. (C’mon, the cat’s belly swings to and fro when he walks, and he is roughly the shape of an over-inflated basketball). I also admitted to calling him lazy, and I defended myself by asking Dove, “When do you ever see him doing anything besides sleeping?”
My defense was not adequate. Dove sentenced me to 140 years of time-out, and I am supposed to serve it by sitting in our bedroom. She doesn’t know yet that I have shamelessly defied her orders and have been going about my business like a free bird, flagrantly thumbing my nose at her authority, all but daring her to come and get me. She will know about it soon enough: the kids will be home this weekend, and I am sure her informant, Gary, will sing like a canary.
Gotta make the most of my last few moments of freedom!