The Cat's Meow

I still haven’t had a chance to cull through all the photos we took in Ecuador so I’m not yet prepared to tell you about screaming and crying baby monkeys or husbands excitedly babbling on about the geologic wonders, or noses and devils, or very large roasting hogs, or dizzying heights or, well, lots and lots of things.   And this is why (besides the fact that I’ve been busy conducting the Pilsner beer study).  I am exhausted, worn out, pooped, the walking dead, because counter to popular belief, vacations are life threatening.  

Sure, the media tells us vacations are a necessary ingredient for our general well being and emotional happiness.   We’ll be less tense and depressed; we’ll live longer; it’ll help our careers.  They want you to believe that people-watching with an umbrella drink Pilsner in your hand, or a spectacular view of a volcano just as the clouds part, or the chance to take a zippy trip across tree canopies (don’t you wish you’d commented now so you knew) will leave you relaxed and energized – ready to take on the world.

Who?  Me?

That’s all well and good, but do they tell you about the risks?  No.  They do not.  However, if you look closely, you’ll find, in very small print, the vacation contraindications and side effects – “participation in any vacation may cause unwanted or dangerous reactions upon return in people with cats.” Did you get that?  “upon return ... with cats.”  

Unsuspecting travelers ecstatically turn off their computers and wave goodbye to sullen co-workers, unaware of the post-vacation bodily harm awaiting their return – kitty vengeance.   It starts with the kitty snub.   Kitty tails are raised high,  furry butts are pointed in your direction and kitty noses point to the sky. Very lightly  “marking” a sound-asleep man at 3:00 a.m. has been known to occur – once – however it may have been a sign of possession.  Forget it, Sophie.  This man's mine.  And if the vacation was extensive, the retribution will most likely culminate in sporadic occasions of deafening meowing at all hours of the day but most especially at night.  In the middle of the night.  When you’re trying to sleep.  For days.  

I'll teach YOU not to leave me alone again for two weeks!

Excuse me.  I've been busy meowing and haven't had time to bathe.

This nightly meowing-induced-sleep-disruption results in an increasing state of zombie-ism which in turn poses daily risks to life and limb.  Think about it, you could be trying to catch up on that missing sleep when the next thing you know you’ve leaned back too far in the deck chair and tumbled down those nice new stairs you had built last year.  Thankfully, that new platform partway down saves you from a direct shot into the dirt and gravel but in your sleep-deprived state you trip on the step as you head back up to the deck chair and land “just right” on your knee – which shatters.  Your iPhone goes flying out of reach but fortunately the pain keeps you awake, as you lie broken and crooked on the stairs, so you can call out intermittently (almost as loudly as your cat’s pitiless meows) for help until somebody hears and calls for an ambulance.  Your knee is toasted and next thing you know you’re in surgery for knee replacement.  So once again you are away from the kitties for an extended length of time, and once again upon your return, the vengeful kitty cycle begins. 

  

And that is why I am tired and I have not been able to share photos of our trip to Ecuador.

Seriously, Maisie.  If you don't leave them alone we'll never get the house to ourselves again.

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The Cat's Meow