Posts Tagged 'chips for dinner'

sweet sixteen

Ouch. I’m forty one years old and until two weeks ago, I never fully appreciated how amazing useful tendons are. In particular the one that runs through your wrist and makes your fingers work. I’m paying the price for my nonchalant attitude. My left wrist is in full rebellion. According to my miracle worker massage therapist, I need to rest my fickle little tendons by not using my hand. At all. Since I can’t do anything useful in the kitchen, and because it’s my cat’s birthday, I thought I’d give him a little face time. Don’t worry, it will be short. I’m typing one handed.
He’s appeared on these pages before, but that’s Hoops above as a little tyke (pretty chic carpet, huh?). He and his three siblings were delivered into this world in a cardboard box in my cabin in northern Maine (the cabin did not have tri-color green shag – in case you were wondering).
He’s lived in 3 states, 10 houses, and has gone through customs twice. Only once did he accidentally get lost and go back to a former home we had moved out of. He waited in the barn until we came to drive him home.
As an adolescent he spent a lot of time in a maple tree. At first we thought he was stuck. After about three “rescues” though, we realized that he just liked to sit in the maple tree. That’s him, three branches up on the left.
hoops in tree
He can hear a chip bag open from any room in the house. Given the choice between a tortilla chip and a scrap of meat, he’ll take the chip. That’s what I’d choose too. Hoops and I eat lot of chips together. Sometimes we have to go on a no-chip diet to keep our figures in check.
Two years ago he survived his one and only major medical calamity. Dental plaque build up fueled a raging kidney infection. We should have brushed.
I’m not at all sure how, but he discovered vitamin E as a kitten and has been crazy for it ever since. He has his own stash of E-50’s and will do anything to knock the jar out of your hand.
At night he sleeps on my head. In the morning he bites my elbow. Just in case I’m not aware that it really is indeed morning.
He’s been late for breakfast exactly twice. Once when he was waiting in the barn of our old house. And once when he had a raging kidney infection.
He comes when he is called and follows along on walks. He can get himself into a lap faster than anybody’s business. I’m pretty sure he is part Buddha.


And today, my old pal turns sweet sixteen. We’re having chips for dinner. Maybe tomorrow we’ll go for his license.


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