Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how
legitimate my illness, I always sense my boss thinks I am lying.
On one occasion, I had a valid reason, but lied anyway because
the truth was too 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 could think up a doozy to explain the
bandage on my crown.
The accident occurred mainly because I conceded to my wife's
wishes to adopt a cute little kitty. Initially the new
acquisition was no problem, but one morning I was taking my
shower after breakfast when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me
from the kitchen. "Ed! the garbage disposal is dead. Come reset it."
You know where the button is." I protested through the shower
(pitter- patter). "Reset it yourself!"
"I am scared!" She pleaded. "What if it starts going and sucks me
in?" (Pause) "C'mon, it'll only take a second."
So out I came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping to make a
statement about how her cowardly behavior was not without
consequence.
I crouched down and stuck my head under the sink to find the
button. It is the last action I remember performing. It struck
without warning, without respect to my circumstances. Nay, it
wasn't a hexed disposal drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth.
It was our new kitty, clawing playfully at the dangling objects
she spied between my legs. She had been poised around the corner
and stalked me as I took the bait under the sink.
At precisely the second I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the
toys I unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like
claws.
Now when men feel pain or even sense danger anywhere close to
their masculine region, they lose all rational thought to control
orderly bodily movements. Instinctively, their nerves compel the
body to contort inwardly, while rising upwardly at a violent rate
of speed. Not even a well trained monk could calmly stand with
his groin supporting the full weight of a kitten and rectify the
situation in a step-by-step manner.
Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight"
syndrome. Men, in this predicament, choose only the "flight"
option.
Fleeing straight up, I knew at that moment how a cat feels when
it is alarmed. It was a dismal irony. But, whereas cats seek
great heights to escape, I never made it that far. The sink and
cabinet bluntly impeded my ascent; the impact knocked me out
cold.
When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Having
been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics snorted as they
tried to conduct their work while suppressing their hysterical
laughter.
At the office, colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me.
I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk. "What's the
matter, cat got your tongue?"
If they had only known.
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