To say that Emma loves tuna is an understatement. It would be more accurate to say that the mere sound of the can opener and the wafting aroma of the fish will send her in to a passionate fit of euphoria. So much is she obsessed with tuna that I have been forced to design ridiculously intricate plans just to enjoy a simple tuna salad sandwich. Tonight was no exception.

I found Emma to be asleep, snoring like a lumberjack, on the nightstand next to my bed. I tip-toed sneakily out of the bedroom into the kitchen, where I tossed a couple pieces of bread in to the toaster. With as much stealth, I assembled my ingredients and utensils in to the small laundry room off to the side of the kitchen, which was the farthest possible distance away from my slumbering carpet weasel. Just to be safe, I started the washer and dryer, figuring if the toasting bread wouldn't mask the scent, most certainly the noise of the machines would blunt her from hearing the can being opened. Ten minutes later I emerged from my lair, no Emma in sight.

Certain of my victory, I softly slithered to the living room where I grabbed a piece of rug in front of the television. I had just savored my third bite of sandwich in peace when my hand was jolted violently toward my stomach. Looking down, I spied my little tuna torpedo with her head firmly planted in the center of my remaining repast. "Can I help you?," I asked in sheer befuddlement. Emma re-emerged from my dinner, face completely coated from ear tips to chin in mayonnaise, a small bit of celery dangling from her long eyelashes, triumphantly munching her looted tuna, with a shred of lettuce dangling precariously from her smirking kisser. A quick survey of the area found a piece of cheddar shrapnel nearly embedded in the side of the sofa.

Emma's emerald eyes danced triumphantly as I carted her to the bathroom for a thorough melon washing. She purred in contentment as I started to contemplate my next anti-tuna-interruptous tactic. Somehow I envisioned this entailing me being locked in the laundry room and the clothes dryer being turned on...with me and my sandwich inside!

Copyright © Leslie M.
September 8, 2005