Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Rhett is the kinkiest number that we've ever seen... (sung to "One is the loneliest number")

So it turns out Rhett the cat is the kinkiest member of our household. I found this out yesterday, during his usual "wake up I'm hungry!" stomp on top of us in the bed where he meows, purrs loudly, flops, kneads his paws, etc on us. As per usual, I let him sleep on me for a while, and when he wouldn't stop giving me a breast self exam I politely shoed him away.

After the wake-up call I gave him, he decided to lie on Dave's side of the bed, purring loudly enough of course that we could still hear him if we were 50 feet away. We were both in the stage of "barely waking up" since Rhett starts this routine about a half hour before our alarm goes off.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Rhett rubbing against Dave's hand, being all cute. Dave quickly draws the line when Rhett pulls out the teeth (he bites random things when he's hungry, the list of which has included us, phone books, toothbrushes, eye drop bottles, TV remotes, pretty much anything he can find). Now, our programmable thermostat hadn't kicked in (since it starts the furnace at the same time our alarm goes off) so it was cooler in the house. What does Rhett do? When he lost the option of going for Dave's hand, he saw a nipple and went straight for it! All I heard was the sound of Dave yelping and Rhett hitting the ground with a thud. I don't think either of them knew what hit them.

4 comments:

elane1958 said...

I guess your Dave should be lucky it was only a nipple. Otherwise, he'd be singing soprano, you'd be looking for another fiancee (unless you decide to put Stephen Harper to the test and marry Dave) and I seriously think that Rhett would be looking for another home. That is IF he survived Dave and your wrath for "ruining" Dave. Cats!! Gotta love em!!

elane1958 said...

Oh, an after thought here: I used to have a siamese cat, Su Lee, that was mine before Bill and I married. She was not happy to find out he shared my bed after we did marry. She only forgave him after he was playing with her one day and she pounced. On his head and left a hole up there. Of course, HIM forgiving her was a different story!!! hahaha

elaine said...

I'm convince that Rhett could be hired by cancer care ontario as the latest in breast cancer detection.

My glasses have also been victimized by rhett, and still bear the marks of the incident.

He's cute...but a total pain in the arse.

elane1958 said...

OK, Heather. I'm hoping you haven't heard this story but after reading about Rhett and Dave's nipple, somebody sent this joke to me and I just KNEW you'd appreciate it. So, here goes:




CAT LOVER OR NOT, YOU'RE GONNA LAUGHT AT THIS ONE......

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 doozy 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 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
vulner! able, 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 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... a! nd 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?"

If they only knew!

Why is it that only the women laugh at this?