Morning Open Thread is a daily, copyrighted post from a host of editors and guest writers. We support our community, invite and share ideas, and encourage thoughtful, respectful dialogue in an open forum.
I’ve come to think of this post as one where you come for the music and stay for the conversation—so feel free to drop a note. The diarist gets to sleep in if he/she so desires and can show up long after the post is published. So you know, it's a feature, not a bug.
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Mornin’ y’all —
I eat my pad thai. Another squeeze of lime to complement the flavor.
I notice tiny paws on the other end of the coffee table, reaching up from below. They catch the end and Lilah pulls herself up and onto the surface. She knows she’s not supposed to be up here when anybody is eating. Bug is curled on the end of the sofa and Pip is watching the scene unfold below from the top tier of the cat tree.
I wait, chewing… savoring… watching.
She makes her way, cautiously, over to my bowl. I take another bite. She lowers her head to sniff the contents and THWACK! She gets thumped lightly on the head by my forefinger.
“NO!”, sternly delivered, accompanied by finger pointing. Discipline, while sometimes ugly, is a nonetheless painful necessity in this household. Well, painful to those who impose it, anyway. She scrambles down off and underneath the table. Pip shifts slightly up on the cat tree and Bug snores peacefully.
I eat my pad thai. The noodles are dry and spicy. Perfect.
A few minutes pass. I notice the tiny paws again on the other end of the coffee table. Slowly, Lilah’s ears and eyes appear, surveying the scene. This time, I reach to the floor next to my foot and my hand grabs the can of compressed air I keep at that location for such an occasion. Suddenly, Bug silently slips away and slinks out of the room, no doubt to bravely “guard” the area underneath the bed from “possible invaders”. He has intimate knowledge of the compressed air can, somehow instinctively detecting its presence. Pip sits up attentively, warily — she knows, but has less experience than Bug in these matters.
I wait, chewing...savoring… watching.
Lilah pulls herself again up onto the table and begins sniffing her way toward my bowl. I hold out until she’s close and then quickly produce the compressed air can, releasing a blast to her forehead. The loud hiss of the escaping air sends Pip launching off her perch and into the bedroom. Lilah momentarily freezes, then, panic-stricken, paws and fur begin flying in all directions as she suddenly has become an older, sadder, yet wiser kitty. She scampers away. I shake my head, muttering “Discipline”.
I eat my pad thai.
Mmm… shrimp.
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Well, folks. Kamala Harris! MICHELLE FRIGGIN’ OBAMA!!!
It’s enough to make you dance…
Almost enough for a …..
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SKA TUESDAY!
Shut up and dance, good humans!
