My sweetheart asked me if I’d like something to drink the other night. “I have red wine? Hard cider?”

“Oh! I should say the wine, but…the cider, please?”

He left the room, returning very shortly later with two rounded glasses half-filled with a lovely organic cider that was - unfortunately - just a bit too bubbly.

Now, there is this charming thing my body does with such substances. I do not belch for lo! that would be unladylike. Instead, gurgles will erupt uncontrollably from my esophagus, using my chest cavity like an echo chamber. In the past, people have told me that it’s a noise you only hear if you’re close enough to me.

In the present, people may have heard my throat-gurgles in Ohio.

*guuuuurgle*

“Um. Hi. Excuse me. That was….proof I should wear turtlenecks.”

He graciously brushed off my apology. “Not a big deal.”

“It shouldn’t happen a-GURRRRGLE!!!”

He leaned back, laughing. “Well, at least you’re not belching in my face.”

“Of course not. I’m much too suave.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Allow me to show you.” I snuggled closer to him and, with my best ‘hey baby’ look, gently pressed my lips to his neck, and…

*GROOOOONK GURGLE*

“Dammit!”

“BAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“So. Um. Maybe the wine next time.”

*gurgle*

“OH SHUT UP! I’m gonna go put on ten layers of clothes. And insert a mute.”

“Like a trumpet mute?”

“You got *chooga-gurgle* it. DAMMIT.”

“Yup. You’re suave.”

*hic-gurg*

*sigh*

“Hi, Trumpet Supply Store!  Do you maybe make these trachea sized…?”

“Have you seen the cat toy?” I asked my housemate.

“I think it’s on the other side of the sofa.”

I grumbled and fetched the toy in question - a plastic rod with a bunch of feathers attached to one end - and handed it to our friend G.  “Ok.  This is Lurk’s favourite toy.  But no one knows how to play with it correctly.  Good luck.”

G, a veteran cat owner and cat toy operator, quickly gained another house kitty’s attention by swinging and flittering the toy through the air, calling Lurk’s name. 

“He used to come running when that toy was being used,” I explained, “but the little bell inside it has fallen off.”  Outside of that small problem, the toy is nearly as pristine as it was when I bought it three or four years ago.  Because as much as Lurk loves the toy, he generally won’t play with it.

Because everyone plays with it wrong.

Finally, he deigned to make an appearance in the room, carefully checking in with my housemate and me for scritches before he slowly approached G and sat just within toy’s reach.

She bounced it on the floor.  She swooshed it over his head.  She did all of the things that had inspired the previous cat to swat at the feathers.

All she got for her trouble was the ‘you are a dumbass’ look from my cat.

Which is what we all get.

“Try rubbing it on his face.  Sometimes he likes that.”

She did, and he looked happy for a moment…then it was back to sitting and pouting and staring at the useless monkey.

G persisted, eventually inspiring 15 seconds of play out of Lurk.  This is the most reaction time anyone ever gets, and it’s falsely encouraging.  The joy, the swatting, the ‘oh look he can play like a regular non-neurotic crazy-making cat!’…only to end abruptly as he returns to sitting and staring with ‘UR DOING IT WRONG’ written all over his face.

“I am being totally dissed by your cat!”

“I know. I’m so sorry.  But NOW YOU SEE.”

He eventually sadly skulked away, radiating dejection.  Had we left the toy on the floor, he would have come back, mewed, and half-heartedly swatted at it.  Because he really wants to play.  I just - after 14 years of living with this cat - have no idea how he defines ‘play.’

(Unless his intent really is to just make it very clear that, in the end, we are all stoopid munkees.)

(It’s a good thing he’s so damn cute.)

“Colourful. Very..colourful.”

It took me a minute to figure out my coworker was talking to me. “Oh. Thanks! It’s all part of my plan, you see, to look as crazy as possible when I’m on the bus so that people won’t talk to me.”

“…….I see.” 



It mostly works.

Except for when someone decides I dress like this for religious reasons. (I so wish I was making that up.)

Then the crazy part is DEFINITELY working, but the no talking? Not so much.