I smile about those days and think of "Poor Ted" every time Sam chases my own cat, Gordon, around the house yelling at him or every time I hear Grace, upon discovering a regurgitated hairball on the floor, say, "No, no, Gordon. No throw up!"
Yes, Gordon has it rough. At one point in his life, he was top...cat. All attention was focused on him. He was fed his wet food promptly at sunrise. He had a never-ending supply of dry food and water at all times. He had the run of the house and his favorite perch in the family room window where he would nap peacefully for hours and was never shoo-ed from even if I did have to clean the cat hair off the curtain several times a week.
Nowadays, he's considering therapy to deal with the addition of two kids, the betrayal of his "mama" who brought the little rugrats into the household, the absence of wet food, the occasional missed refill on the dry food dish, the new self-watering contraption that always startles him with an air bubble every time he tries to quench his thirst, the new house where he has to scream at a closed door to get to the beloved basement, the constantly interrupted naps where he must spring from a dead sleep to run from a kid. And let's not forget the above-mentioned yelling...
If only he'd been in the car with the rest of the family the other day. We were on a day-long trip back to Ohio. Daddy was driving and explaining to the kids that we would be driving back home the next day so that Gordon would not be lonely.
Grace quickly spoke up since most everything Daddy says lately merits a "No, no" out of her. She said, "No, no, Daddy. No say Gordon."
Kris replied sarcastically, "Okay Grace, we'll just get rid of Gordon."
To which a very distraught Sam said from the back, "No, Daddy! Don't get rid of Gordon. I just love him so much." Poor Gordon. It must be tough being so loved.
