Sunday morning we got up early enough to finish Walbernizing the Kat’s Cradle. While we were at it Broadway Bill emerged from his 40’ cocoon: “Still polishing?” “We’re almost done” was our reply. And then Bill went on, like this:
“Ah, did you hear the guy running a power drill about three a.m.? Woke me up. What was he thinking?”
I had slept well, heard nothing, and said nothing, but I thought “Maybe somebody got here late and ran a drill to speed-set his stabilizer jacks.” Kat said “I never heard anything like a drill.”
Half an hour later the AirStream was buffed and spiffy. Enter Bill, stage left. “I figured it out! The power drill: it was one of Diane’s cats. He urinated on our bedspread, not once, but two or three times.”
This seemed a bit puzzling, and I couldn’t resist: “How would a cat use a variable speed drill while taking a whiz?”
Bill didn’t mind my humor. “Ah, he makes this sound like, ‘zziiiit’ when he marks. He’s just never marked our RV before, at least not in the bedroom. Ah, I don’t know what he was thinkin’. And Diane’s cleaning like crazy in there … she really liked that bedspread. Guess she’s gonna miss it!”
Bill and Diane were heading west today toward Oregon. We are going north toward Glacier National Park. He won’t read this blog and send me e-mail about why did I not tell him he was being photographed shirtless, bending over, with his old belly having nowhere to go but where gravity pulled it. If he does, I’ll tell him, “Bill, it was a kindness that I didn’t show you wearing the same t-shirt every day we were there. Besides, it’s a good picture of Diane. Cut me some slack, will you”?
I hope our paths cross again: surely there are many wonderful cat tales yet to unfold.