Since my cats have very short memories and no sense of time, I believe that about five minutes after The Duchess and I leave the house they start to think the Apocalypse has occurred. I figure five minutes after we step out one of them rises up as a prophet of doom, telling how the Shaved Can Monkeys have abandoned us. About ten minutes in, there’s widescale wrestling and hissing and several cats take up positions by the dwindling food bowls, ready to pounce on intruders. Half an hour in, it’s Kitten Thunderdome.
I figure this solely from the reactions when I return to the house: First there is a sort of frozen awe, as if they can’t believe it – I am risen! Then there is what can only be described as joy, followed by a determined guidance to the food bowls so that I may be aware of the dire conditions they have survived fro thirty minutes. Then I feed them, and there is a feast, just like in most religions.
Carry on.
Hahahahaha – brother you need to take that gee-tar to the next level, and start a band called “Shaved Can Monkeys.” It doesn’t roll off the tongue at all, but that makes it better somehow….
Love it. 🙂