BAD KITTY!!

[Fayebelle]

We've all had trouble with our animals, but I don't think
anyone can top this one.

Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how
legitimate my excuse, I always get the feeling that my boss
thinks I'm lying. On one recent occasion, I had a valid
reason but lied anyway, because the truth was just too darned
humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had sustained a head
injury, and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next
day. By then, I reasoned, I could think up a doozey to explain
the bandage on the top of my head.

The accident occurred mainly because I had given in to my
wife's wishes to adopt a cute little kitty. Initially, the new
acquisition was no problem. Then one morning, I was taking my
shower after breakfast when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to
me from the kitchen.

"Honey! The garbage disposal is dead again. Please come reset
it."

"You know where the button is," I protested through the shower
pitter-patter and steam. "Reset it yourself!"

"But I'm scared!" she persisted. "What if it starts going and
sucks me in?" There was a meaningful pause and then, "C'mon,
it'll only take you a second."

So out I came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping that my
silent outraged nudity would make a statement about how I
perceived her behavior as extremely cowardly. Sighing loudly,
I squatted down and stuck my head under the sink to find the
button. It is the last action I remember performing.

It struck without warning, and without any respect to my
circumstances. No, it wasn't the hexed disposal, drawing me
into its gnashing metal teeth. It was our new kitty, who
discovered the fascinating dangling objects she spied hanging
between my legs. She had been poised around the corner and
stalked me as I reached under the sink. And, at the precise
moment when I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I
unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like
claws.

I lost all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements,
blindly rising at a violent rate of speed, with the full weight
of a kitten hanging from my masculine region. Wild animals are
sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome. Men, in this
predicament, choose only the "flight" option. I know this from
experience. I was fleeing straight up into the air when the sink
and cabinet bluntly and forcefully impeded my ascent. The impact
knocked me out cold.

When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Now
there are not many things in this life worse than finding
oneself lying on the kitchen floor buck naked in front of a
group of "been-there, done-that" paramedics. Even worse, having
been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics were all snorting
loudly as they tried to conduct their work, all the while trying
to suppress their hysterical laughter--and not succeeding.

Somehow I lived through it all. A few days later I finally made
it back in to the office, where colleagues tried to coax an
explanation out of me about my head injury. I kept silent,
claiming it was too painful to talk about, which it was.

"What's the matter?" They all asked, "Cat got your tongue?"

[twinkle]

ROTFLMO!!!!!!!!

Jeez!!!

Good one, Faye!

[Stone]

LOL

[Merika]