Slipping and Sliding

I had a cat. Her name was Kate. She was very intelligent. I do believe she was smarter than me.

More than once she would appear to point out the obvious that I had completely missed. It didn’t help that she was quite good at putting her front paws on her hips to show me her disappointment.

Well, I’m about to launch another boating story. I’m not necessarily proud of myself in this story, but alas, it must be told.

Boating on the Chain-O-Lakes rivers and lakes was an amazing fifteen years of our life. I have never shirked my duties as a stand-in first mate and help with the lines & knots. Once you get the sea salt in your nostrils you are hooked for life.

I’ve shared many stories already about those years and I’m sure you can deduce that we had party hounds as neighbors. I boasted frequently about them, we were a proud bunch.

So, it’s no matter at all if someone had started up an impromptu party three doors down. Beer, wine, liquor was coming out, with cigars, from the shadows. Music piped up like it usually did once the commencement of activities had been initiated.

Mid-sentence and of broken thought, someone leaned in and said, we need more beer. Well, my little boating home came equipped with a den, housing a pool table and bar. Yes, I had a keg fridge too. You need beer, you’ve come to the right place.

I grabbed my pitcher and hopped to work. I can cover three backyards in a few seconds. I spun up my back porch stairs and reached for the door. I bolted past my cat, Kate and into the den. I pulled a hearty handle down and began filling my pitcher. Music in the house was jamming in all rooms to some early Eagles. I topped off the pitcher and exited the back of the house, a quick walk back to my seat. Check time: 4.5 minutes. Not bad, Mike, not bad at all.

Ding! Like Pavlov’s Dog, I was aware that another pitcher of beer was in need. No worries. I’m wondering if I can beat 4.5 minutes. I’m thinking I can. I spin back up my back porch steps with an empty pitcher in hand. Kate is still at the door, but now, she has her front paws on her hips. Something is wrong!!

I sprinted down the hallway to the den. I am met with an unexpected flood of foamy beer. My legs rise up before me with my feet exceeding my head height. I hover in the ether for a brief moment until gravity kicks in and plunges my body into a huge puddle of beer. I did not turn off the damn keg handle!!!

Kate walks around through the living room and arrives in the other entrance of the den. She replaces her paws back on her hips. Her body language is clearly telling me things about my lifestyle and my personal decisions on how to lead a clean life. I am failing in my cat’s eyes. But I don’t have time for that now. I am soaking up beer into my clothes by the second. Oh and something else happened too that I just remembered.

When I entered the room and launched myself into the air, I hit my CD holder stand with my left arm. I started it spinning in a counter-clockwise direction. It shot out CDs in all directions, successfully hitting beer each and every time. I gave in a little and rested in the puddle. It’s over. I’m done.

Then my cat yelled at me. “Get your butt up!” seemed to linger in that one long meoooooooow. I checked my limbs and nothing seemed to be broken. The meow lingered a bit longer. I sat up. Dripping in beer and humiliation, I lifted myself up and out of the beer lake. I reached up and turned off the handle. There was a lot of beer on the floor.

Step by step, I cleaned up the mess and eventually went upstairs to change clothes. My bones were cold. I needed the warmth of sunlight. I emerged from a recently cleaned den with new clothes into the warmth of the day, a lovely summer day. I had a pitcher full of beer and a party to get back to. Life is good.

“Where were you, Mike?” I heard it from several people as I approached.

“Oh, I just needed some quality time with my cat.”

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