Of Paws and Persistince.

Bee-boop.

What the..?

Bee-boop.

Something electronic…

Bee-boop.

It’s eight am and electronic intrusions are unwelcome. Let’s face it, at eight am, there are very few intrusions that are Rob-welcomed. Pirate Queen snuggle. That’s a good thing…

Bee-boop.

Ok, but this noise isn’t. Persistence: It’s great when we have it, but when other things show ability to persist, it gets real annoying—

Bee-boop.

Real quick.

What the heck is the noise? I’m running down my list of annoying electronics and finally register the answer: PQ’s cell phone. It’s dying. It’s a painful waiting death, and it wants me to share. I should plug it in. That’s what it thinks.

Bee-boop.

I can’t help but agree. Hopping out of bed to find the phone, I find something better: cat yak. It’s now between my toes.

Great…

Bee-boop.

Into the bathroom I hop, foot held high, as to not stamp stomach jetsam all over the carpet. My toes feel gross. There’s a special goosh to cold cat yak that can only be experienced through spin shivers and chilled convulsions. Those spasms mingled with my manual dexterity add to the degree of hopping difficulty, so that my hop is more of a wall slam-dance really. There’s no worry of the feline goo dropping free. It’s good and stuck. I hit the bathroom linoleum with my good foot and slip-fall onto my bad ass.

Ow.

Bee-boop.

Mrowr.

I recognize the new noise: It’s a cat. It sounds like PQ’s. She’s probably letting me know that her tummy doesn’t feel good. My butt isn’t doing too great either, let me tell ya.

Mrowr.

“Shh! Cat, give me a se—“

Bee-boop.

For a phone ready to die, this one’s got enough charge to let me know for quite a while. It’s the martyr phone. I could make a PQ joke here, but she reads my blog. I’ll abstain. I’ll run with “Maybe the phone should save its strength.” You’ll laugh and we’ll pretend nothing happened.

Ix-nay on the artyr-may.

Mrowrrrr.

Well except for maybe that one.

I scoot to the toilet paper roll and pull a few sheets. Removing what ick I can from between my toes. The toes welcome the new dry feeling. Except my queen buys this cheap toilet paper, it’s sticking to the yak part it won’t remove. I’ve now successfully tarred and paper-fiber-feathered my foot.

Bee-boo—

Mrowr.

Great. I think the cat is telling me that there’s an annoying noise in the living room. Next step is to stand up. I need to wash my foot. I’m still half asleep, so I choose the sink over the tub. I know. Not a wise choice for the uncoordinated, but I’m persistent. With one hand I scrub my foot while the other hand clutches death tight around the sink basin and counter top.

Mrowr.

“Yes. And thank you too.” Some days are long before they even start. Some days we just have to push through like an unwieldy Rob-blog. I don’t mind them (the plow days—Unwieldy Rob-blogs are like watching an Earnest P. Worell film festival). Sure they’re annoying, but at least I know what I’m dealing with and I know that there’s an end.

Bee-boop.

See, the last few years were flying a holding pattern for me. A jobless foreclosure is not quite the storybook ending I was looking for, but at least I’m landing. Persistence is tough, but it’s nearly impossible in the face of the unknown. It’s easier to despair. I once read about a long distance swimmer who was trying to cross from Hawaii to California. She swam and swam, and then she hit a fog bank. She couldn’t see her goal. Thinking she couldn’t make it any further, she signaled her spotting team and she gave up. They pulled her into the boat just a few feet from her goal. If she could have seen how close she was, she could have made it.

Mrowr.

That’s me--Not the Mrowr. That’s the cat--I’m the guy trying to blindly reach my goal and for the past few years, I couldn’t see a thing.

Bee-boop.

And now with dry foot on the floor, I’m scanning the living room. I can’t see my queen’s phone either. Where the?

Mrowr.

“Shh cat! I’m waiting!”

And waiting…

And waiting…

Ever notice when you want something to happen it takes forever to transpire? Now that things have started happening, I’m feeling better. Sure they aren’t the things that I wanted, but I know how to react. I know what I need to do. There are other things out there too There’s—

Mrow—

Bee-boop.

The phone is over by the couch. I can’t see it, but it’s cornered. One more beep should do.

Mrowr.

“Sorry, not the same thing, cat.” I just need to be patient. Patience rolls in on cat feet and yaks on your floor, and makes you stand in it till it dries. I hate patience, but now there are time limits on things I can see them. I’ve applied for grad school. If I get in, I’ll find out by mid-April. If I don’t, well, I’ll find that out too, but then it’s on to plan b. I have a plan b.

Bee-boop.

I’m right! It’s by me, but where?

Between the cushions?

Now I’m tearing the couch apart.

Mrowr.

The cat’s standing by the kitchen door. It looks like she’s hungry. After what I cleaned off my foot, I can see why.

Bee-boop.

Behind the couch?

No.

Where?

It’s in the kitty tower beside the couch. How did it get there?

Bing-bong!

That’s the door. What the—

“Pizza! I have your anchovy special!”

Now the cat is standing by my leg purring. The morning fog is becoming cat-paw clear.

Bee-boop.

At least I’ve found the phone. Now I need to find the cord to plug it in. Maybe the cat will show me where that is, after I pay for the pizza.

Maybe.

It’s all a game of persistence.