Meweeks from n Cat died The dog lost a lot of weight because there was no cat food left for the dog to eat. As a result, dogs are healthier, more active, and more annoying, yet this may be called the unexpected adversity of tragedy.
I enter the living room where my wife is sitting at the desk.
“How did you like it?” She says. There is a pause. The dog lying on the couch raises his head.
“I have a reason to be here,” I say. “I forgot what it was.” I can’t help but notice that there is a picture of a kitten on my wife’s screen.
“I just warn you,” she says. “I have seen cats.”
“It’s too early,” I say. I firmly believe that when your loved one dies, you should take enough time to handle the loss before replacing it. Unless it’s a TV. If the TV dies, I will buy a new one that day.
“At this point, we’re just looking at the cat to see what’s there,” she says. “And dogs too.”
“Dog?” I say. Correspondingly, the dog jumps off the couch and steps into where I’m standing.
“Just to see what’s there,” she says. The dog crouches playfully at my feet, shakes his tail, and it’s like you, me, let’s go!
“Not now,” I say.
“I want a cat,” says his wife.
“I think it’s important to have a proper mourning period so that you can experience the hidden benefits of not having a cat,” I say.
“And how long is that for you?” She says.
“One year” I say. “Some of these benefits may be seasonal.”
“It’s ridiculous,” she says. “Anyway, I listened to your opinion.” The dog gets up, crouches, gets up, and barks. I look down.
“Not now,” I say.
A few days later my wife rings me.
“Do you like Corgi?” She says.
“What do you mean?” I say.
“It’s a simple yes or no question.”
“Do you mean Corgi like dog breeds? No, of course I don’t like them.”
“Really? I like them very much,” she says.
“No, I don’t,” I say. “I’ve heard many times that you look down on them.”
“I don’t know why you’re so uncomfortable,” she says.
“Are you in the car?” I say. “Are you coming home with Corgi now?”
“No,” she says. “I was asking you a question, that’s it.”
“And you have the answer,” I say. “I’m against Corgi, and so are you.”
“OK,” she says. “good bye.”
“OK, goodbye,” I say. “Don’t get Corgi.”
A week after this call, my wife crossed the yard to my office to show a picture of the kitten on the phone.
“That’s right, it’s cute,” I say. “It’s a kitten.”
“Small tabby!” She says.
“Where is this cat now?” I say.
“It just happens to be a mile away,” she says. “I’m going to see it on Saturday.”
“This Saturday?” I say.
“Little Giles!” She says she looks back at the wet grass and walks back. I think: Giles?
That night, my wife, my three sons, and I are in the kitchen discussing the possibility of a cat change. Meanwhile, the dog attacks food with extraordinary momentum. No one has heard of my discussion about the hidden seasonal upturn.
“For example, Christmas,” I say. “There are no cats that look like they are.”
“It’s very sweet,” he says, looking at the phone of his oldest mother.
“You should come with me to see it,” she says.
“I can,” he says.
“What happens?” I say.
“What do you mean?” My wife says.
“Is this your first visit or what?” I say.
“We’re going to see kittens,” says my wife. “What do you not understand?”
“He has points,” says the oldest. “When I go to see the kitten, I almost certainly go home with it.”
No one says anything for a long time. I look around the room, but everyone seems to avoid my eyes. Finally, the youngest person lifts his head off his computer screen.
“Wait, do you have a cat?” He says.
“That’s literally everything everyone is talking about,” says the person in the middle, staring at the fridge.
“Little Giles,” says his wife, looking at the phone. I try to focus on the hidden benefits. That is, at least not getting Corgi.
Tim Downing: I’m worried that I have a kitten.To make matters worse, Corgi | Life and Style
Source link Tim Downing: I’m worried that I have a kitten.To make matters worse, Corgi | Life and Style