Thank you to the fans who elevated my story about acquiring Maxie into a silver medal in the Blog Awards. I'm truly humbled. And Max is embarrassed, having had a lapse of such magnitude last night ON THE NEW DOWN COMFORTER that he nearly was ejected from the household. I hit the roof so hard (though I didn't touch him) that all the cats were cowering at the language and stomping around and slinging of vinegar and ripping off of sheets and utter fury. I didn't know I had it in me.
But then it's been quite a week. Not to reiterate everything that went wrong, but my own lapses in conduct had been embarrassing to me, I had a sermon to write, and my mood was anything but cheery. Max's indiscretion gave me a much needed reason to explode and vent a lot of pain and irritation.
By dawn's early light, I had forgiven him and myself and later this morning came a phone call of forgiveness from someone I'd hurt, and the world feels right side up again. I don't know exactly what the deal is with Max, and it may be that we'll go to the vet if he lapses again, but he may have been acting out my sorrow in some way. I don't know. My friend Susan the cat whisperer lives across the road. Maybe I'll go ask her.
That little puddle on the bed (fortunately in a spot that is easily washable and de-stinkable) seemed like the putative cherry on the top of a manure sundae, gifted to me by one I trusted, and it parallels metaphorically the way others may have felt because of my lapses.
Okay, okay, enough beating myself up in retrospect. Things are better now and the Vagina Warriors met today for lunch! It was great to see them again and I'm looking forward to our next gathering. I bought a DVD of our performance and I may pour myself a glass of wine and bask in last weekend's good memories. After checking to make sure that Max is not anywhere near the bed, of course!
3 comments:
An audiologist colleague who tested infant hearing told me the secret (she used it to get research funding, not silver medals): "Everybody loves babies!".
But I gather that you have mixed feelings about this one right now.
Yes, Max is on a short leash right now and needs to redeem himself. He's more of a gangly teenager than a baby these days and I suspect that his indiscretion was an effort to mark his territory. He is presently draped over my shoulder, legs hanging down on either side of my upper arm, purring madly, making it tricky to type. But I'm softening up; it's hard to stay mad at him.
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