BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Our cats have this whole pecking order thing going on.

Granted, we are down to only 2 felines after many years of rescuing, hospicing, and otherwise adopting copious numbers of the tuna breathed little flea bags, but this pecking order thing has been going on forever. I suppose it’s sort of like lions and their prides. One of them has to act like he (or she) is in charge, so that’s what happens.

Of course, as attrition takes hold and the population dwindles, there are skirmishes. Bids for power, incumbents, lame ducks… Well, they’re all lame ducks… But, you get the picture. King of the pride goes off to the great kitty condo in the sky, and those left behind go into a free-for-all about which one of them is going to wander the house in the middle of the night bellowing the call of the wild.

All in all, it’s pretty ridiculous. Nothing at all like we human folk handle things.

For instance, just the other day I was fixing dinner and the o-spring yelled for me to leave the refrigerator open. Apparently she needed something in there. What and why, I have no idea. After all, I was the one fixing dinner, not her.

Either way, I had already closed the fridge and was back at my prep work by the time she had yelled. She came into the kitchen, took one look and announced, “I said leave the refrigerator open.”

Of course, my response was, “I don’t take orders around here.”

Without missing a beat the o-spring returned, “Oh yeah? If mommy told you to leave it open you would have. You do everything she says.”

Yeah… I guess we know which Evil Kat won the skirmish.

Now, if you’ll be so kind as to excuse me, I have to go find my earplugs. It’s getting late and the “Domestic Redhair” is going to start her Queen (Bitch) Of The (Whole F*cking Universe) Pride yowling very soon…

More to come…

Murv

Does anyone happen to have Bill Cosby’s phone number? I wouldn’t normally ask something like this, but it’s kind of important… Really… No kidding.

You see, we need an intervention and we need it right away.

The problem came to light a few months back. At first, I thought it was just an odd anomaly. Something that was coming about due to some strange juxtaposition of the planets, or maybe some urban myth blown way out of proportion. Unfortunately, I think that may have just been wishful thinking on my part, because it seems the problem has only become worse… Well, in my mind as well as E Kay’s too. And, you all know that if E K thinks it’s a problem then it must be a problem.

You see, ignoring the original incident (which we will get to in a minute AND as I was still considering it an aberration at the time) the other night after dinner I happened to have a taste for something dessert oriented. Now, this is not the usual for me. Even being a fat guy, I’m not really a sweets oriented type. So, I usually figure that if my brain suddenly tells me it wants something dessertish, then my body must be deficient in some wholesome nutrient found primarily in dessert. I dunno, maybe something like copious amounts of sugar, or gallons of high fructose corn syrup. At any rate, whatever it is I am missing can apparently be found in dessert, and therefore I do something about it.

Of course, since sweets really aren’t my thing I try to stick to something that isn’t cloyingly sugary, and that is something I enjoy – especially if it brings back fond childhood memories. This is why I try to keep a box or two of pudding in the cabinet. It’s not too sweet, it’s easy to fix – especially if it is instant pudding, and like Mister Cosby says, “Mmmmmmm Ummmmm Mmmmm, Jello Pudding!”

I mean, come on. Pudding is one of those foods that simply fills the bill no matter what (pun NOT intended). Why as a matter of fact, I remember one time back in my early 20’s when pudding pretty much saved my life.

I was single – hadn’t even met E K yet, in fact – and all by my lonesome. I had come home from work early because I was feeling like crap. As it turned out I had contracted some manner of killer, face eating, brain frying flu that makes H1N1 look like an overcooked pork chop… I mean, this stuff was “The Stand” kind of bad. Before long I found myself in the ravages of an extremely high fever that involved some delirium, chills, and sweats.  Just to let me know I was no longer in control, it roller-coastered up and down for better than 24 hours. When it finally broke, I found myself tangled up in the soggy sheets of my bed, where I had been the whole time – several hours of which I didn’t really remember. Fortunately, I had come home early on a Friday, so in my fevered state I had not missed work without calling in, however, I had in fact missed a good friend’s wedding. Fortunately, I wasn’t in the wedding party, but I hated to miss the event all the same – even if I would have been going stag. After all, bridesmaids and all that you know…

But, back to this already tangential tale… I was hungry and weak, but I dragged myself into the bathroom and grabbed a shower before heading to the kitchen.  I hadn’t been shopping so the fridge was on the emptyish side, and the cupboard wasn’t much better. So, I climbed into my beat up Ford Pinto and zipped up the street to the 7-11. But, instead of grabbing a microwave burrito and a Slurpee, as I came through the door I spied that which would make all things better again.

And so, in a matter of 10 minutes after returning home with my prize I had a big ass bowl of Jello Instant Pistaschio Pudding in front of me. And you know what? I ate the whole thing while watching some movie I’d already seen a dozen times before on one of the 38 cable stations we had back in the day. I don’t remember what it was I was watching, but I definitely remember the pudding… It was instant comfort food, and it made me feel better after the ordeal of the fever.

So, back to what I was saying originally… The other night I had a taste for something sweet, therefore I hauled myself off to the kitchen and whomped up a batch of chocolate pudding. Not my favorite flavor, but I figured if I was fixing pudding for myself I should do so for E K and the offspring too.

Several minutes after the whipping and the chilling, I arranged the three bowls on a tray then brought them into the dining room where the two of them were doing horrible things to my notebook computer with a mouse and an internet connection – the adware installed on that thing now is another story in and of itself…

Anyway, intent on surprising them I snuck in and placed bowls of the “puddingy” goodness in front of them.

E K yelped in delight, “Pudding!”

Of course, that was much the same as hearing, “Good Dog!” so I couldn’t help but wag my tail and hope that meant I would NOT be treated to my usual severe beating later in the evening when there were no witnesses.

However, the O-spring just stared at her bowl, then after a moment pushed it away and continued installing malware on my notebook computer.

“What’s wrong?” E K asked.

The O-spring shrugged and said, “I really don’t like pudding.”

You could hear a spoon drop. As a matter of fact, had you been in the room you actually would have heard two spoons clattering on the floor.

A child who doesn’t like pudding… Just unbelievable…

So, now do you see why I’m trying to get hold of Bill? If this doesn’t call for a Jello Pudding Intervention, I don’t know what does…

More to come…

Murv