Devil in Disguise


Mother’s Day was wonderful.  I went to Albuquerque to meet with my youngest daughter (who I think is drop-dead gorgeous) for lunch at an organic restaurant called “Los Poblanos.”  There she gave me my oldest daughter’s gift, which took my breath away.  April (my oldest) and her family gave me a card signed by my handsome grandsons, husband and herself, plus a set of rings from a very fancy jewelry store.  The lunch was so good it brought tears to my eyes, and the grounds of the restaurant were magnificent.  Despite all the wind, a wonderful day.  I hope and pray all moms are so blessed!

Today, however, I want to reveal a lamb in sheep’s clothing, a great deceiver, a gremlin in my midst.  Just take a peak at the culprit!

ImageWould you ever guess that such a sweet, fuzzy face would be able to cause an otherwise sane person to seriously consider murder?  I am referring to my little “Chamako,” which means Little Boy.  Now mind you, I think I’m a patient soul.  Let me give you one example of his impish conduct.  Chamako’s belief is that one minute past 5:30 each morning is sleeping in, so his job is to correct this lazy trait.  If I’m not awake on a timely basis he will jump onto my chest and gently pat both sides of my face with his over-sized paws until I wake.  If unsuccessful, he begins to lick.  Sounds cute until one remembers that a cat’s tongue is like sandpaper.

Child safety locks on all cabinets are essential since he knows how to open the doors.  Chamako delights in jumping into the cabinets and wrestling around to see if he can get anything to roll or fall out.  Such entertainment!

Well, yesterday took the cake.  While at the library working, he must have gotten bored or had a brain fart that he considered genius.  He somehow got the refrigerator open!  Although I’m relieved that the door didn’t shut on him, the end result is not much better.  In side that cool closet were a few pieces of fried chicken wrapped in plastic and a pound of burger that was thawing.  When I got home I found a broken catsup bottle and a cracked mayo jar on the floor.  A few chicken bones were scattered hither and yon.  My burger was partially disemboweled and smeared on the floor, the refrigerator side and the grisly remains on a kitchen seat.  And where was the culprit?  Why rubbing against my legs, purring happily to see me come home!

Don’t the Spanish have a soup recipe they consider a delicacy which uses cat meat?

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