A Man And His Cat

Grabbed this picture with my iPhone. Blair was conked out asleep at one end of the bed and his girl Olivia was conked out asleep at the other end. 

Blair's Secret Stash

Blair spent almost all of Saturday upstairs at his desk, working. When he finally came downstairs, he announced he was walking to the corner store to buy some cereal. 

"Can I get you anything?" he asked. 

"Yes, M&M's. No, wait. Nothing."

"You're sure?"

"I don't need them. I'm sure."

Of course the minute he left the house, I regretted my decision. When I heard him come in the door I called out, "I decided I did want M&M's. You didn't by any chance read my mind?"

He set the grocery bag on the table. "No," he said. Then he disappeared into another part of the house and came back with M&M's. "But I can give you these."

"Secret stash!" I said. "You've been holding out on me, you excellent man."

But it didn't end there. The next day we went to the grocery store and I had my hand on some peanut-butter granola trail bars. 

"I shouldn't," I said, hesitating. "I eat these like candy. Oh, what the heck." I started to throw them in the cart, but Blair stopped me. 

"We've got some already," he said.

"Secret stash?"

He nodded. 

"Oat and honey or peanut butter bars?"

"Both."

"What is going on?" I exclaimed. "Just where the heck are you hiding all this food and why?"

"Why?" said Blair. "I have to think of my own well-being, that's why. It's safer to have treats on hand."

So now I sit in this house, typing this, knowing that somewhere--somewhere--in the vicinity there is likely a whole stashed horde of my favorite treats. Blair has begged me not to look for it.

I'll try not to, but I'm really not in control here. We'll just have to wait and see how bad the chocolate cravings get. 

We Almost Speak the Same Language...

Lucy has been hiding in our small walk-in closet for over a month now.The last time she hung out in the closet was right before we discovered that all her teeth needed to be pulled and she'd probably been hanging out there because she was in pain. She appears in good health, but I decided to make her an appointment to be checked out at the vet's. Since I'm working this week and Blair is on summer hours, he gets the task of taking her there.

I approached him this morning while he was brushing his teeth.

"Do you know what to tell the vet?"

"Ugh-swaugh-mai-urg."

"What?"

He spit. "I'm going to say she's been hanging out in the closet."

"And..."

He looked at me. "And... that's it?"

I sighed. "That is not it. Tell them that she doesn't seem to be bothered by light, her appetite is still good, and she purrs and appears happy when I sit in the closet and pet her. Also, she's been extra skittish lately. She runs around the house with her tail drooped and her back arched and freaks out and runs away if we even look at her. Oh, and she's been a little more aggressive lately toward Olivia." 

"Got it."

"So tell me what you're going to tell them."

"My cat's been hiding in the closet and my wife is a basket-case," said Blair. 

Close enough, I guess.