By Lisa Batten Kunkleman
My day began with a soft pat on the arm and a nuzzle against my fingers. No, this was not my husband. It was our people-phobic beautiful FAT black cat, Daisy Mae. I had received a gift from the object of everyone’s desire. When I tried to return the caress, she allowed me five strokes of her soft back and neck. That was it. Off the bed she hopped, destination in mind.
“That’s all you get, Mere Human. I hope you enjoyed that. Now get up and feed me.” I could translate her meow.
I followed Her Majesty toward the kitchen as ordered. I walked carefully, playing dodge-a-dog on the way up the hall, through the den and into the laundry room where I refilled her bowl, along with one for another cat. One of our young adults who was back in the nest had already fed our three dog children or they would have been prancing around my legs on the trip to the land of food.
While preparing one of my masterpiece smoothies, I either started a hot flash or the thermostat needed to be adjusted. It’s a good thing I went for the thermostat in the next room or I wouldn’t have seen the enormous puddle on the floor. Dang it! Why, Sadie? Her hound dog puddles are like small lakes. I let her out late last night. Couldn’t she have put her big old foot on my shoulder like Daisy did to get me up?
Breakfast prep halted as I grabbed paper towels and Nature’s Miracle Hardwood Floor Cleaner and tended the wet mess. All the while, Daisy glided around the accident scene as if saying, “Aren’t you glad I got you up, Human? And you should note, I didn’t do this.”
After nearly scrubbing the skin off my hands, I resumed making my energy drink. What the heck is this? Who spilled milk all over the counter-top? Did one of the cats knock over a glass? Then I figured out the source.
Oh-my-gosh. Almond milk was seeping out the bottom of the blender leaving behind a bunch of damp kale, blueberries, and lime. I lifted the glass blender jug from the machine and watched the last drops of white liquid drip out. After a dazed moment, I remembered my sanitation-obsessed daughter was home from college and had likely separated the pieces for washing and left it loose to dry. Great idea but I must remember that things change when the birds fly back to the nest. So, I tightened the very loose bottom of the blender. If there was not enough almond milk left in the carton, this would be a roughie, not a smoothie.
I stood there contemplating what to blame for my unexpected issue. I blamed the mulberries I was sorting through to keep moldy ones out of my drink. That was about the time I got hot and left the kitchen. But no, the instant replay in my head reminded me it was actually the doggie accident that took my attention part way through the smoothie making. That was the real culprit. If that sounds gross, don’t even think about what goes on with the hands that handle our food in restaurants. Ewww. No. Don’t go there.
Oh yeah, to top off the morning, I also tried to cut slivers of ginger for the drink and dropped the sharp scissors nearly cutting slivers from my flip-flop clad foot. That would have meant another mess to tend to. A bloody mess. Did you get that, how I cursed in British? On with the day. Milk leaks and dog leaks had interrupted enough of my morning.
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