pandemo (pandemo) wrote,

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Cattin' Around

Have you laughed yet, today?

Jon has Garfield, I have Spelunker Thunder Paws...

When I was cleaning the BATH ROOM COUNTER, I found a small piece of silver patterned Christmas wrapping paper (doesn't everyone?). I decided to wrap the brass picture holder I was packing up for inclusion in Mom's birthday box n it. (May 3rd, so it will be a Very Merry Unbirthday Year, by her own choice. I had told her I'd get her a special CD that she could pick out herself, and she finally got around to choosing one by Harry Belafonte on Saturday, too close to when the mail went out for me to possibly be able to mail it out until Monday... Staggering the arrivals prolongs the joy, don't you know? She turned 85 this year. She's a keeper!)

I carried the shiny, crinkly paper to the command chair, Spelunker shadowing me the whole way. No sooner had my rear hit the seat than he plopped up, hot after that paper. I rolled him over and reached for the scotch tape, holding him over with a well-placed elbow as I carefully folded the paper down the center and slapped a piece on to hold it. That worked for the first end, too, but he got wise to it eventually. I wonder if mom will be able to tell which end he "helped" with? Keeping with the Christmas theme, I stuck a "Merry Christmas" tag on it, then added a bright yellow sticky to the back side saying that since the mails were SLOW, I could probably get away with the tag... As I was writing the note, he came into my lap and tried for the pen. I deployed the elbow again, but this time, he was evidently off balance and plopped back onto the floor. Even though I picked him up and fussed over him, he walked off in a huff once my hand stopped stroking.

And I still haven't found the toenail clippers or the cheese cutter. Old age setting in, or excessive "help"?
Tags: animals, birthday, christmas, mom

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