LAST CHANCE IDOL WEEK 4 -- HAIR SHIRT
MISERY LOVES COMPANY
JANUARY 8, 1987 10:03 AM
I closed my eyes and prayed for sleep... or barring that, a quick and merciful death to put an end to my suffering. I had been bedridden with the flu for the previous two days; my fever was 102.9 F (39.4 C) and every major joint in my body ached severely... so much so that slumber had completely eluded me. Over-the-counter medication didn't help at all and antibiotics were useless because the illness was viral in nature. My mother and sister (each of them trained nurses) had tended to me over the preceding 48 hours, but they both had just gone out to take care of personal matters that they could neither postpone nor cancel. As they really could not alieviate my suffering, their ministrations had only made me even more irritable. At this point, all I wanted was to be left alone--
"*NOW*!!!" A high-pitched, insistant meow indicated that I was not going to get what I wanted; Cretin was in the mood to play again, and as usual he wouldn't take 'No' for an answer. I silently cursed my sister for having brought the aptly named kitten into the house.
Physically, Cretin was a particularly adorable animal, partially because of his bright orange and white fur but mainly due to his unusually small size -- he had been the runt of his litter, and as such he still appeared to be far too young/small to have been weaned properly. Sadly, he also displayed several neurological issues, the most notable of which was his obvious lack of intelligence. Indeed, Cretin was so far from being 'the sharpest tool in the shed' that he could have qualified as the definitive 'blunt instrument'. His second most apparent neurological issue was his hyperactivity; Cretin seemed to subsist on just 4 hours sleep per day, and the rest of the time he was almost constantly in motion... especially when he was playing his favorite game, "Come Chase Me!" Indeed, he enjoyed playing that game so much that he demanded that everyone else in the household play the game with him during his every waking moment. The problem was he was so fast that he could easily elude all his pursuers, so the game never really ended...
"*NOW*!!!" Cretin's repeated mewing clearly indicated that he thought it was "Play Time" again... and as I was the only other occupant of the house, by default I was to be his playmate today. Even if I had been in the best of health I would not have relished another round of "Come Chase Me!" with Cretin; I found the whole exercise to be extremely frustrating. What was the point of having a pet who constantly ran away from you, much less came when you called? And as ill as I was, I sure as hell wasn't getting out of bed. All I wanted was some peace and quiet--
"*NOW*!!!"
-- but Cretin's relentless calling meant that I was going to get neither. He was close by, apparently just outside my bedroom door. Not that he would ever actually come into my room; he occasionally entered my sister's room, but he never showed me any affection. To him, I was just something to play with when my sister wasn't available. Like right--
"*NOW*!!!"
I ground my teeth in frustration; I'd have no chance of getting any sleep with Cretin making such a racket. I closed my eyes tightly and desperately tried to ignore the kitten's demands, hoping that he would eventually grow bored and give up...
"*NOW*!!!"
"*NOW*!!!"
"*NOW*!!!"
As Robert Heinlein once noted: One should never try to outstubborn a cat. All right, ignoring Cretin wasn't working. My only alternative was to make it clear to the animal that I was completely incapable of playing. Fortunately for me, I was fluent in several modes of feline communication. I inhaled deeply... and let out a long, drawn-out whimper which clearly expressed my illness and discomfort: "uuuurrrrr...."
"... Now?" The tone of Cretin's mew changed radically; instead of insistance, it now indicated surprise... and concern. I repeated my whimper, drawing it out longer: "uuuuuuurrrrrrrr...."
There was a brief silence, then: "Now?" I blinked in surprise; the sound had come from the foot of my bed. Cretin had never entered my room before... but I was too ill to even roll over and look at the little fluffball. So I whimpered yet again to make that abundantly clear: "uuuuuuurrrrrrrr...."
With the softest of sounds, a tiny lump of orange and white fur suddenly materialized on my chest; Cretin had leapt onto me effortlessly. The kitten's bright green eyes gazed into mine... and I could see the little creature was genuinely worried about me. "Now?" he queried... but my arms hurt too much for me to even reach up and stroke him. Again, I expressed my discomfort in a language he could understand: "uuuuuuurrrr--"
I cut my whimper short in surprise when Cretin started licking my nose. It tickled so much that I quickly found myself chuckling at the absurdity of the situation -- this tiny kitten was trying to make me feel better the only way he knew how. A moment later I felt Cretin kneading his forepaws on my chest... and that just made me laugh even more.
"Now?" Cretin ambled over to another part of my chest, and began kneading there. "Now?" After a few seconds, he hopped over to my sternum, and briefly gave me CPR. "Now?" Then he switched to my stomach... and every time he massaged me someplace new, he made me laugh even more. I honestly don't know how long this went on because my amusement over the kitten's ministrations enabled me to ignore all the pain I was experiencing... and I eventually drifted into slumber without realizing it.
It was a little after 4 PM when I woke. The six hours of sleep had helped me immensely; most of my aches had faded away, and it felt like my fever had finally broken. Cretin was nowhere to be seen, which didn't really surprise me; his concern for my welfare was so atypical that I quickly convinced myself the entire episode had been a hallucination brought on by my illness. It wasn't until I went to the bathroom to answer Nature's call and splash some water on my face that I discovered that I had not imagined the episode after all:
In the mirror, I saw that the front of my pyjama top was coated with orange and white fur.
Though I tried many times, I was unable to coax Cretin to come to me ever again, no matter how desperately I called and whimpered. I think it was because on those later occasions he could tell that I wasn't truly ill. In retrospect, he probably wasn't so dumb after all...
This post is an entry for THE LAST CHANCE IDOL, WEEK 4. It is based on the prompt "Hair Shirt". If you enjoyed reading it, please vote for it by clicking here. My check box is fourth from the top.