It’s A Test, Isn’t It?
A test of my tenacity and patience, that is.
Bugsy, the Insane is my cat. Here’s a picture of him having a moment with my shoes. This evidence of his fetish will, I trust, explain his name.
Bugsy regards me as his personal responsibility, and he never lets me out of his sight.
Frankly, I don’t know how I performed a variety of tasks before I had him around to offer his own brand of help and running commentary.
Normally I am able to wrap Christmas gifts when Bugsy has sufficiently exhausted himself supervising my every move, and has settled somewhere for a long nap.
The easiest method, for me to wrap gifts, is on the floor. Standing and bending over a table would keep Bugsy from helping, but the pain it causes my back is just not worth it.
Which brings me to my point.
Someone had written a humorous article the other day about how to wrap a present with a cat. I laughed, long and loudly, at it as I could really relate.
Yeah, when you’re living it…….not so funny…..
I have my wrapping paper, ribbon, bows, tags, tape, scissors, pen, and gifts all spread out in the den.
I sit on the floor amidst the colorful piles and start the job.
Bugsy enters and promptly flattens his big, fat, carcass on top of the wrapping paper I’ve just unrolled and spread on the floor.
I sigh…and shoo him off.
He moves, but only until he sees the ribbon – an aside, and in all fairness..it’s just not right to dangle ribbon in front of a cat and not let him/her play with it.
I take the ribbon, and shoo him out of the room.
He exits, complaining the entire time. Stopping at the door’s threshold, he lies down to watch.
I proceed to wrap a gift, and after getting all taped up I go to pick up the pen and write on the gift tag.
I can’t find the pen, anywhere! I spend about three minutes looking under, around, and through, everything before I notice Bugsy has it perched between his paws. He’s not chewing on it or doing anything. He’s just holding it.
I take the pen from Bugsy, fill out the tag and affix it to the package.
Then, I reach into the bow bag and discover I’m not alone. There’s a distinctly furry paw already in there.
I pull the paw out, amidst much protest, and once again shoo him out of the room.
He takes up his post, at the door’s threshold, and gives me one of his patented “huffs”. Yes, he does a “harumph” kinda sound when he’s truly perturbed with me. I’m telling you he’s an alien in a cat suit.
Lather, rinse, repeat….at least a dozen times. Sometimes he makes off with the ribbon, and I have to follow the trail to find him…usually under the Christmas tree.
So, a once-pleasant experience has now become an incessant battle of wills and the sum total of my actual wrapped presents? About half of what it should be for the time and energy expended.