Toys and Boys

Excuse me but I'm hopped up on Mexican coffee and those delicious bacon wrapped Jalapeno pepper pretzels served at the Cheapo Anniversary Party at Grumpy's.

My friend just got back from her annual pilgrimage to Mexico where this year she spent two and a half weeks getting some much needed R&R. She brought me back a pound of coffee, probably the smoothest, least bitter coffee I've ever tasted. She also brought back a wooden kitty holding a fishing rod with a cloth fish dangling from the end. My favorite mother of two gave me a similar cat statue a couple years ago for my birthday so I set the new one up next to the old one right next to a plastic Sumo wrestler I have that is wearing a cross made from the old dome roof of the St. Paul Cathedral.

Of course given the current population of my household, I will have to keep my eye out for a third wooden fishing kitty to honor my three boyz, Thompson, Theo, and Diego-san. Strangely enough Theo has already seemed to catch on to this misrepresentation of our reality. Being the third cat added to the house he maybe can be excused for being sensitive to his role in life.

For years I've had a particular cat toy, a plastic fishing pole with a stuffed cloth fish that is to be used to cast and reel back in, with the intention of getting the cats to chase the bait. The boyz generally love this toy because not only can they chase my cast, but they can also follow the reel in, and there's also the love of chewing the line if the fish seems to be hard to find. We don't play with this toy that often but whenever I pull it out it gets all three boys' attention.

I store the toy at the edge of my desk, fish hidden underneath a storage cabinet that's part of the desk. For whatever reason the other day Theo just had to get at the fish bait no matter what. He stretched himself out as far as his tall thin frame would allow and pawed at the plastic fishing pole. It was just beyond his grasp but he wasn't about to give up because this had become the only thing he could focus upon.

He probably wanted me to play with him, casting the fish into another room and allowing him to chase the fish back and forth from room to room, up and down the hallway. I just wasn't in the mood though so I went about other business.

I was in the kitchen when I heard a crashing noise coming from my office. Seems like Theo was finally able to reach high enough to roll the fishing pole off the edge of the desk. He sat there licking the cloth fish, looking somewhat proud of his accomplishment.

It was then I looked up at the two wooden fishing cats and for a moment I actually could believe that young Thelonious was telling me that he noticed that I only had a duo of fishing kitties and there are a trio of cats in this house, and this needed to be remedied so he was going to become that third fishing kitty if I wasn't willing to do something about the situation.

So now I'm in the market to find a third wooden cat holding a pole with a fish dangling from the end. I'll eventually find the right one that will take it's rightful place next to a plastic Sumo wrestler wearing a cross made from the old dome roof of the St. Paul Cathedral. I guess that figure can represent the Japanese American member of the household, the one with continuous spiritual issues, and who finds as year after year goes back that his pants are needing ongoing expansion to accommodate the ongoing expansion of his waist size.

Of course maybe just maybe I've been out of sorts and away from home about two and a half weeks too long and my leaning toward the delusional side has finally tipped the scales. I've contracted and likely will return to expanding. Here's to finding whatever will solve the current dilemma as wooden as it may end up being.