Eating is now an intregral part of the day (and night) around the Root house. The dog has to be fed. The cat has to be fed. Mom has to be fed. Mom-in-Law has to be fed. Dad has to be fed. Junior has to be fed. Every two days that pale guy we keep in the basement has to be fed...oh wait...
There are two parties in our house that demand to be fed on THEIR schedule more than any other party. The first is Misty the Cat.
The last time we went to the vet we were told that Misty is actually two cats. The vet was referring to Misty's weight (she's 20 lbs...her gut actually "swishes" back and forth when she runs) but in actuality Misty has undiagnosed schizophrenia as well (Get it? Two cats?...crowd groans here).
Misty is a great cat around Mamma (my wife/Junior's mom) and I. Really an all around good animal and I'm not a cat person. Misty was not a good animal until she spent 6 months alone in MI with Pappa while Mamma was still in AR. During this time, Misty got put through boot camp. It was not pretty. Let's just say that PETA wouldn't be happy. The end result was a pretty good cat....most of the time.
However, when anyone other than Mamma and I is around, Katie bar the door. She goes from Misty the mild mannered house cat to some animatronic character off a B rate horror flick. I blame this part of her personality on Mamma's side of the family, but I digress.
Misty is quite vocal about receiving her breakfast AS SOON as Mamma gets out of bed in the morning. Meow this. Meow that. Meow, Meow, Meow. She used to be vocal about getting breakfast as soon as I got out of bed in the morning, but a few whacks upside the head solved that problem. We'll call this "boot-camp continuation therapy". Look for my pet care book to be out in June.
The other party in our house that demands to be fed on schedule is Junior and whacking him upside the head ain't going to do any good. Let's go through the many faces of junior as feeding time approaches, occurs, and passes.
First we begin with a happy baby and Mamma. No troubles. No worries. Life is good.
Second, Junior begins to squirm a little. I'm sure he says to himself, "Hmmmm, there's that familiar feeling again. I just had this feeling 40 minutes ago and Mamma picked me up, stuck a bottle in my mouth, I did a little sucking on it, and life was good. Well, they know I'm having this feeling right now so I'll just try to hold back my feed call until such time as I absolutely have no other options." See below:
Then Junior realizes that Mamma and Pappa must have cancelled their subscription to ESPN, because they are not able to read his mind. The following facial expression results:
Suddenly, out of the blue, Junior comes to the realization that Mamma and Pappa are complete dolts and that it's every baby for themselves in this cold, cruel world. That's right....it's time for the FEED CALL (insert ominous music here):
When a feed call erupts, Pappa and Mamma scramble to warm up a bottle and stick it in Junior's craw faster than a North Korean national jumps on a rice kernel. However, all this hustle, bustle, and feed calling causes anxiety in Pappa and Mamma. Nails on a chalkboard, even the sound of your car bumper collapsing when you back into something, sound better than a 1 week old screaming. See below for an example of a post feed call Mamma:
But, after Junior finishes the bottle, he is overcome with a state of absolute euphoria. I feel quite certain that if one could bottle the feeling below, peace in the Middle East could be achieved while simultaneously irradicating bird flu and homelessness.
So there you have it. An act that occurs around the Root household about 20 times daily. If you see smoke signals from the North, that's just me calling for help.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
"Nails down a chalk board?"
"No sleep"
I'm soooo screwed here in Feb.
Anyhoo, I love the site. Keep it up.
-Sc*tt
In order to remain anonymous, I used an astric for the "o". I also signed in using my soc. security number. Pretty smart huh?
Post a Comment