Now I am back to work after spending three glorious weeks holidays with my girls, certain realties come to light.

Like rising at 05:30AM, instead of 09:30AM.

Cleo & Velvet just don't want me to go, having been spoiled with me being in the territory to love them, pet them, and most importantly, FEED them whenever their wish desired.

I am not let out of bed in the morning, the pair becoming three times their actual weight as they lie against me to prevent my leaving. Then walking between my feet to hinder my trip to the shower.

As I prepare for for my trip into the North American businessmans' world of cut and thrust, I know my charges are safe at home, immune from dogs, cars, and nasty humans.

However, there are certain household dangers...

Every day a ritual occurs. Cleo loves to jump up on the toilet seat behind me as I scrape my face each morning. She sits there and purrs loudly, for no reason I can see, but the toilet seat has a nice comfy blue cover...

But there was a problem this morning, you see... the toilet seat was up.

Cleo is allergic to water, she hates it and won't even drink it, because when she was an outdoor kitty she had her share of fleas. Shampoo Baths are something a Feline will never forget. Reduced to a wet, really naked skinny mass, the indignance is threefold. Cats don't wear clothes... when wet they are truly naked.

I heard *sploush*... then YEEEOOOWWWLL!!! as a soaked black and white paw machine flew past at about Mach 2.4.

As I write this, she is still not talking to me.

I did look her in the eye and tell her, "Look Honpuss, It's a good thing I flushed first..."

Copyright © Bill Mason
August 18, 2001