Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate my illness, I
always sense my boss thinks I am lying. On one occasion, I had a valid reason, but lied
anyway because the truth was too humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had sustained a
head injury and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day. By then, I could think
up a doozy to explain the bandage on my crown.
The accident occurred mainly because I conceded to my wife's wishes to adopt a cute
little kitty. Initially the new acquisition was no problem, but one morning I was taking
my shower after breakfast when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen.
"Ed! the garbage disposal is dead. Come reset it." You know where the button
is." I protested through the shower (pitter- patter). "Reset it yourself!"
"I am scared!" She pleaded. "What if it starts going and sucks me in?"
(Pause) "C'mon, it'll only take a second." So out I came, dripping wet and buck
naked, hoping to make a statement about how her cowardly behavior was not without
I crouched down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button. It is the last
action I remember performing. It struck without warning, without respect to my
circumstances. Nay, it wasn't a hexed disposal drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth.
It was our new kitty, clawing playfully at the dangling objects she spied between my legs.
She had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I took the bait under the sink. At
precisely the second I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered
and snagged them with her needle-like claws.
Now when men feel pain or even sense danger anywhere close to their masculine region,
they lose all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements. Instinctively, their
nerves compel the body to contort inwardly, while rising upwardly at a violent rate of
speed. Not even a well trained monk could calmly stand with his groin supporting the full
weight of a kitten and rectify the situation in a step-by-step manner.
Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome. Men, in
this predicament, choose only the "flight" option. Fleeing straight up, I knew
at that moment how a cat feels when it is alarmed. It was a dismal irony. But, whereas
cats seek great heights to escape, I never made it that far. The sink and cabinet bluntly
impeded my ascent; the impact knocked me out cold.
When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Having been fully briefed by my
wife, the paramedics snorted as they tried to conduct their work while suppressing their
hysterical laughter. At the office, colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me. I
kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk. "What's the matter, cat got your
If they had only known.