Sigh.

Can't even comfort myself with their...

Will you still need me, will you still feed me
When I'm sixty-four?

...since that milestone was six years ago.

Bears repeating:

"Sigh."

Well, to quote my newly retired colleague, Mr. Mac (Paraphrase? Too damn old to remember! :-)...

...when you greeted him with the traditional "How are you?":

"Well, I woke up on this side of the grass this morning!"

Okay, enough gallows humor...

...time to move on to cat humor.

Last month I got lucky...

...was asked to cat sit!

Hey, in addition be being a CAT member for 39 years, I was a cat person even before that. However, although people have encouraged me to get a pet since my retirement, I just haven't been able to bring myself to take on that full-time responsibility.

But, a three-day cat-sitting, I could do that!

Now, I have to admit, my joy was tempered...

...because the cat in question has issues. Let's just say that he has been known to bite the hand that feeds him after he has gotten whatever petting he wants. There is no warning...from purring to biting in the blink of an eye.

So...

When I entered the lion's den, I went with full knowledge of the perils within. I intended to check up on him, all the time remembering: "Do not touch!"

Background:

Last year, the little rascal nipped me. I expressed my displeasure by swatting at him as he fled the scene of the crime. (Yes, he knows full well that he is a bad cat, and seems proud of it! No remorse.)

The next day, Mr. Kitty turned from aggressive to passive. When I cautiously entered the den to attend to food and water, no kitty to be found. I looked high and low for 30 minutes. "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty." Nothing. I even went outside and looked, thinking that maybe he slipped past me when I entered the front door. Finally, I called Mr. Kitty's permanent caretaker to report: "I've lost your cat!" She reacted well, didn't panic like me, tried to soothe my palpitating heart, gave me suggestions of where to look. Well, nothing. No cat. As I am looking behind and under furniture, the phone rings: "Have you found him yet?" Me: "No. I am sooo sorry!!!" She then tells me to take the cat's plastic food container and shake it. Well, voilą! Mr. Kitty sticks his head around the corner with a "Whassup?" expression. Sigh...

Okay, fast forward to July, 2015.

I entered cautiously, making sure that the cat did not exit. That way, if I don't see him, I will just assume that he is engaging in his passive "Strike fear into his heart" routine. Burn me once, shame on me...burn me twice, well, there'll be none of that!

Oh, but, no!

Kitty greets me like a long lost friend...

...rubbing his head against me legs, wanting to be petted.

Bears repeating...

...I'd been down that path before!

I tended to the food and water and remained skeptical of the cat's sorrowful pleas.

Well, hell, Mr. Kitty was so pitiful. He obviously missed his family and didn't understand what was going on. He just wanted some consolation.

I picked up a duster on a long stick (that the cat's permanent caretaker had used to play with him) and used that. The cat played a bit, but you could tell that he was lonely and needed some TLC. Against my better judgement, I put the back of my hand down for him to rub his head against (as he had done my legs) rather than taking a chance on petting and getting bit.

All went well.

Mr. Kitty then laid down on the floor, rolled over on his back, enticing me to rub/pet his belly. Well, my mama didn't raise no fool. I could sense a trap being set. I declined. Finally, he got up and rubbed against my legs again. Once again, I extended the back of my hand...more rubbing, more purring.

I dunno, maybe he hypnotized me. For some damn reason I stuck my hand out as if to pet him on the head, and before I could realize the error of my ways, before I even made contact, he turned and struck...

...sinking his fangs into my wrist. OUCH!!! (Along with more profanities than you will hear in the hallways of CJSHS tomorrow!!!) I did not physically retaliate. For one thing, that darn cat is faster than a speeding bullet. Plus, I had more important things to attend to...like rinsing the wound with water and grabbing a paper towel to stop the bleeding!

That was in the morning.

In the afternoon, I came back to do my duty and check on the cat. I expected him to revert to his passive, hiding form of retaliation, like last year. NO! He was in the kitchen, all defiant like, meowing.

Since I am not fluent at Catonese, I don't know if he was bragging, taunting, or saying "I'm sorry, can't we be friends?" Anyway, I said "Stay the hell away from me!" (or expletives to that effect.) I did a quick check on the food and water and exited post haste!

The next day...

...once again into the lion's den!

No cat...

...good!

Went about my food and water routine.

As I turn to make my exit, my eyes spot something on the floor that wasn't there yesterday.

I kid you not...

...a dead mouse.

WTF?!

A threat?

You could be next!

A peace offering?

Can't we just all get along?

More likely, at least that's what I took it for, BAIT! Like if cheese doesn't work in the mouse trap, try peanut butter!

Well, Mr. Kitty's "human trap" failed miserably. I escaped my final day of cat sitting with my other arm and legs intact!

Hey, I haven't digressed like that in a long time!

Guess I'm slipping into my back-to-school mindset. Unlike the article I posted earlier today, this old saber-toothed cat was the proverbial sage on the stage and spent the whole day preaching the rules and regs.

What prompted today's lecture?

Why, a birthday card!

Word of my cat-sitting adventure has made the rounds of my current friends and former colleagues.

Since I did actually break down and seek medical treatment (a tetanus shot and antibiotics), today's card was more than appropriate:

Okay, okay, I've gotta get in one more gallows humor effort...

...that I used on my friends prior to seeking medical assistance...

...as I sat at home looking at my arm swelling up and turning red.

I told them (to not much laughter) that if worst came to worst...

...I wanted them to change my epitaph to read:

He lived by the CAT

He died by the cat!

I shall take the liberty of closing with a Simon and Garfunkel song: