Humor
Feline Disorientation
19 12 10 21:26
The cat is disoriented. I suppose one could argue that that really isn’t anything new. Disorientation seems to be a normal feline state. I remember many years ago in the kid phase of my life that our family had a kitten that mastered the art of walking backwards before it became proficient in walking forward. We would watch the silly beast proceed (or would that be recede?) across the room until she backed into something. (What can I say? It was the 50s and I was easily entertained.)
But I digress. The current source of disorientation is missing furniture. A sofa and chair disappeared to be reupholstered a couple of days ago while the cat was sleeping. Somewhere around 80% of the cat’s life is spent sleeping, a fact that occasionally makes me jealous. The other 20% is mainly occupied with eating, playing, meowing, and disgorging hair balls at inopportune times and places. When the cat awoke and headed for food, she immediately noticed the missing furniture, forgot about eating (I think she has feline ADD) and tried to meow the furniture back into existence. She does not understand why this plan did not work.
Lyle Schaller in one of his books likens the smallest American church congregations to cats. They are highly independent, cute one on one, have great difficulty with change, and hiss and scratch in groups. Some of my friends who pastor cat congregations know what Schaller is talking about; have you ever tried to baptize a cat? The basic problem is that cats by nature resist submission. They believe that they are the center of the universe. Sadly, the people that cats own often reinforce that belief.
The furniture will be back, the cat will recover, and the optimist in me hopes that she will resist scratching the new upholstery. Meanwhile, she is disoriented, and though she doesn’t like it, that might be a good thing.
Lord, please keep me from being too much like the cat.
Comments
With Apologies to Clement Moore
15 12 10 23:43
‘Twas the week before Christmas and all through my mind
was the certain conviction that I’m in a bind.
I haven’t gone shopping, and what should I buy?
We don’t need more stuff, not a scarf or a tie.
But gifts are important; I know that it’s true;
so I want to find something that says I love you.
If I was omniscient I’d know what to give,
but instead I’m bewildered; my mind’s like a sieve.
On Target, on Costco, and on to the mall;
I just might find something – or nothing at all.
I missed cyber Monday; black Friday is done
I need inspiration, and I’m finding none.
This poem’s not done, I’ll continue to rhyme
‘cause it’s not Christmas eve yet, I’ve still got some time....
Oxymoron du Jour
23 08 10 21:41
It may be a sign of age if you can remember when it wasn’t an oxymoron. That’s one of the reasons my next trip will be on the train.
I can take a hint....
03 06 10 10:45
Would Thoreau have used a cell phone?
26 05 10 10:53
Maybe it’s a generational thing, but it seems to me that sometimes unconnected is good. And sometimes face to face is better than cell tower to cell tower. Technology, after all, is not exempt from the effects of the fall. Remember when spam was food and junk mail was limited to what the mailman brought six times a week? Maybe Thoreau was right:
Men have become the tools of their tools.
Men have become the tools of their tools.
