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Oh, boy- you gotta train them dogs to consume what they kill instead of seeking "confirmation" of said activity; you sure it's not Duane that's the trigger? He used to be a Medivac Pilot didn't he?
Cat in the lapHad a conversation with my cat today. Odd how we feel it is necessary to talk to something like a cat (or a rock) all the while knowing it doesn’t understand, or in the cat’s case, care. But we do. We feel that need to just clutter up a perfectly quiet and peaceful morning with a bunch of chatter. God’s outside building in a beautiful morning which is just begging to be looked at and here you sit, cat in lap, talking to it. I’m not actually sure that the cat even knows you are alive. I think it is more concerned that it is comfortable, that you are stable, and the spot it chose is permeating warmth. Yep cats are simple.Cats are simple but women are not. You can’t just have a conversation with a woman. It may start off as one but in the end you are left feeling like you aren’t sure exactly what just happened. You can remember bits and pieces of it, but in my case never the part that caused things to get all caty-wumpus. It must have happened, and because I woke up and I was still a man, I caused it! I have been conditioned to believe that it must have been me simply because I am a man. There is something awfully terrible about men. I don’t know what it is exactly, I just know that we are wrong. All men are created in some screwed up fashion. I have been told that enough, so, now I understand. Well, maybe I don’t, but that’s not important.So back to the cat. It’s just sitting there looking at a place on the wall. A plain area with no particular features. Cats don’t need anything to focus on most of the time, a swath of wall will work just fine. I think if it’s vague enough and the platform it chose to sit upon is stable enough, then it will start to vibrate. Actually it emits a sound, but being a helicopter pilot, I can’t hear it. I know the sound is caused by something vibrating and anything vibrating is getting ready to break. That makes me nervous and the cat senses my increasing anxiety so it stops this vibrating for a while. But, alas in a moment or two the pattern will start and repeat itself once again.I get lured in this rhythm for some reason. Call it a flaw in my personality. Probably the same problem that causes me to be a man. Comes from the same area in the brain (Must be a small area) that allows for successful interpretation of what a woman is communicating. I got all that right once! (The successful interpretation of woman communication) But only once and that was a long time ago, so I’ve actually forgotten all about it, and if the truth be known, I can’t really swear to having gotten the message right even once, I just don’t like admitting to defeat so I claim it true or not!Never mind this cat thing is fascinating in a way. The dog is nearby and I am picking up on something. The dog is under my watchful eye. I gave him a “Place” command which did just that. He is parked in a place over there in this place. He won’t move. If he does I’ll point the finger at him. If I do that he will feel dejected and all failure prone and will lower his head. I think the act of the dog lowering its head is painful, because he doesn’t like to do it, so he just listens to me and stays in “Place.” You know, so he never sees the finger. The cat figured all this out, and so armed with that knowledge, chooses this time to move in to my space. Sure it is using me as a cushion, but I believe at a deeper level I believe the cat did this ultimately to torment the dog. Note here: The dog is male and the cat is female.Not sure where I am going with that, but being of the scientific mind, I know to take note of everything that is going on, so that later on I will be thoroughly confused which will cause me to stop thinking about it and move on to straightening up the house or something. Where was I? Oh yes, Cat-Dog thing.So this cat staring at the wall is vibrating and the dog is picking up on all this over there in his place. HE is probably dreaming of shaking the cat to a violent death, but he is giving all the appearances of just sitting there peacefully. Man he’s good! Has me fooled. But the cat, no, that cat is calculating. Not sure if it is because the cat is made up of cat molecules or it is female. Hmmm, perhaps it’s the the combination of the two! Anyway, this cat is really tormenting the dog. It is also vibrating on me so as to suggest it likes me. But a cat likes nothing. It simply uses things to its own pleasure and by its design. It is using me to both stay warm, and to torment the dog. It will likely become bored with the whole situation in time and move along to its next distraction, but for now it is extending an unseen middle finger toward that dog, and laughing.The dog of course is storing up untold hatred. It has a bank of revenge that rivals Fort Knox no doubt. And from time to time around here I have seen the results of the release of all that stored up seething hatred. One day as Duane preceded me going down to the basement to get some gun part, he says,” Ah, Don, you had better come over here.” I wasn’t smelling the pungent odor of an animal accident, and he was already stepping over and around kid’s toys, so it wasn’t going to be good. And it wasn’t. There all crunched and twisted up was the woman’s favorite cat. It had either spent some time in a tornado after being run over by a bull dozer, or something with big powerful jaws had had its way with it. Thinking back quickly, I recalled earlier having seen Jack, the large Siberian with a sort of smile like expression. He was basking as if in a sauna, kind of like he had just had the time of his life…Another time I found a three foot long cat. It had started normal size, but with a dog on each end facing each other with both transmissions in reverse, they had managed to lengthen the cat significantly. I think the lungs just got stretched too far away from everything else which caused it to expire. That cat, of course, was a favorite as well.Now all of this is automatically my fault. It’s my fault because I should have done something. Or I didn’t train the dog properly. Or I wasn’t watching as closely as I should have. Or I didn’t cage them or whatever. The reasons are endless, but the one constant is: It is always going to be my fault. There is relief for me though. It’s called death! Yep, at some point in life I get to die and since I know and love my Jesus, I will meet him in heaven where I have heard we don’t make mistakes like the ones I constantly make on earth. Up there we were all screw-ups, but were perfected in, well, a perfect God and are no longer susceptible to the Chinese man traps that lie in wait around every corner of life.Where was all this taking us? Ready for the moral of the story? Ya, me too, but I’m clueless as to a good ending to all this. Sometimes it’s just the quoffee working its magic, a quiet morning, and old dog, and a cat vibrating in your lap, and nothing more!
Cats don't have owners. They select a staff.
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Topic: CIEMR: Cat in the Lap (Read 2105 times)
