Lesson learned

by the Night Writer

One time, years ago, a bird flew into our garage and expired. When I found it I was about to throw it in the dumpster and then I thought of how our large, slothful cat would sit at the window watching the birds in the backyard, occasionally gnashing his teeth. I thought it might be fun to take the bird inside and give him a peek at the real thing up close. I was wearing a leather utility glove and had the bird resting on the palm; I walked into the kitchen and the cat was passing through. I lowered my hand, expecting that he would get a sniff and initiate a slow stalk. Instead, as soon as he saw or sensed what I had in my hand he moved with nearly blinding speed, snatching the bird in his mouth and racing off to find a quiet place to have his way with it. That was not to be, of course, as I pursued him around the main floor, finally recovering the “prey” and doing what I should have done in the first place and not risked a carcass surprise for my wife or daughters.

So, what brings this up? Well, Tiger Lilly is engaged in her annual Nanowrimo, or National Novel Writing Month (50,000 words, minimum) exercise. In preparation she began squirreling chocolate and other creativity and energy-boosting comestibles around the house and her working areas a month ago. The other night I went to the store to pick up a few things and on the way out I picked up one of those long, flat Hershey bars of dark chocolate, thinking to encourage my daughter’s efforts with a surprise treat. When I got home I hatched a plan to surprise her, though I was surprised to see her taking a break by watching a DVD with the Mall Diva and Son@Night. Her back was to me, however, so I proceeded with my plan – creeping up behind her I quickly reached around and held the wrapped dark chocolate bar horizontally under her nose, intending to waft it side to side, expecting to hear delighted noises and cooing (yes, it’s Tiger Lilly, but that does happen – sometimes). Instead, her head instantly tilted and her jaws snapped down on the chocolate bar. With authority. I almost lost my thumb.

That would have been an expensive and really inconvenient lesson because if it had happened all my sentences wouldstarttolooklikethis. Countyourblessings.Andyourfingers.

2 thoughts on “Lesson learned

  1. I have good aim and reflexes (ninja!), I wouldn’t bite off your thumb.

    ‘Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy, and taste good with ketchup’ isn’t how I look at things. I don’t like ketchup.

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