Today
is my wife’s 80th birthday and Edgar Allen Poe’s 209th. I
wasn’t able to put eighty candles on a cake for her, but she forgave me, nor
would I be able to put over two hundred candles on Poe’s cake, but I’m sure he
doesn’t care. A hundred and sixty-nine years in the grave will take most of
your cares away.
Even though she didn’t want any cake
or presents, I went to PetSmart and bought two more pieces of cat furniture and
put them in her name, an S-shaped piece that sits on the living room floor and
a triple-tiered piece that goes on the back patio with all the other pieces out
there. She says it’s the best two presents she’s ever gotten. Our two cats are
pretty much our lives now. They own the house and allow us to live with them as
long as we feed them regularly and buy them toys and furniture. We lost our
third cat Tuffy in a tragic accident four months ago. Tuffy, always the
inquisitive one, climbed into the clothes washing machine when we weren’t
looking, the door got shut, and we didn’t look for him nor could we hear him
until it was too late. His air ran out and he suffocated. We assume it wasn’t a
painful death, just a slow sleep when the oxygen ran out, but horribly tragic
nonetheless. Tuffy and Charlie were always the best of friends with Tuffy’s
brother Tiger the outsider. But now that Tuffy is gone, Charlie and Tiger are bonding.
They actually seem to like each other. The two of them now have six different
cat furnitures on the back patio, so many they can’t decide which to sit in or
on. But all have views of the backyard
and they love to sit and watch the birds and bunnies that come along. They don’t
so much care for the coyotes that occasionally amble through our yard. The
coyotes will look at them and think, “Ummm, what a scrumptious meal you two
would make!” And the boys look back and say “Yah! Yah! Yah! You can’t get us,
so just go on your way and leave us alone!” And the coyotes do just that,
continue on their way to find easier meals than Tiger and Charlie.
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