First off, thanks to everyone yesterday who wished me a happy birthday. I do appreciate it. It was a good day: signed a new client contract (always a smile raiser for me), got good news on the family front, and had a nice grilled Ahi tuna dinner with my wife at our favorite local Italian restaurant. After she left for work, I settled in and spent the remainder of my evening playing the original Metal Gear Solid, from my recently acquired (for a very reasonable price) MGS Essential Collection pack. What can I say? I’m an MGS fan and wanted to catch up.
It was a good birthday. Thanks again to everyone who wished me one.
Long time R&K readers may remember Monkey. Monk’s our local outdoor cat, allegedly owned by the people a few houses down, even though they apparently do nothing at all to care for her except dress her in collar and tag. When it got really cold back in December, we opened up our garage and made a place for Monkey to bunk down and stay warm – we didn’t want a Monkeysicle on below-freezing nights.
Well, since then Monkey has progressively wired us and our next door neighbor for sound. She knows all our schedules and routines. At the crack of dawn she’s at our back door (earlier this year we started locking up the garage at night), banging on the dog door flap until I come out at around 8:30a, open the garage and feed her. (I call it the “Salvation Army Breakfast”; Kristi’s parents go cook breakfast at the local SA homeless shelter once a month, and the name just seemed appropriate to me.)
Anyway, then – from what I hear – Monkey strolls next door, drinks heavy from their dog bowl, wanders into their kitchen and stretches out for a nap. Then it’s back to our backyard for an afternoon of hunting and chasing and playing around in our somewhat overgrown back yard. All day I find myself watching Monkey back there through my office window. On really hot days she’ll seclude herself deep within our garage stuff to stay cool in the afternoon.
She’s usually hanging out in our yard or theirs until I come out at night lockup to padlock the garage door. I always check around to make sure she’s not in the garage before I do it; once in a while she’s there. More often, she hears me rustling around from next door and dashes over to say hello. I lock up and wish her a good night.
Next morning, starts all over again.
Kristi insists that I’ve created a monster. She’s probably right. I’ll know for sure when I go out there one morning and Monkey’s insisting that we run the TV cable into her garage apartment. Will probably have to draw the line somewhere around there, I think.