Hot weather and burying poor Sylvester
Published 12:00 am Wednesday, August 29, 2007
I simply refuse to put on make-up during this heat wave only to have it slide down my face and melt into a puddle at my feet on the sidewalk.
However, to go without it would simply be a crime to humanity, so I guess I'm stuck.
Has anyone around here actually ever tried to cook an egg on the sidewalk?
I think it bears attempting in light of our soaring temperatures.
Honestly, I have found myself sweating from pores of my body I didn't even know I had. I know — that was “T.M.I.” - too much information.
And you know when it comes to hot weather, your clothes stick to you just like a wet bathing suit. Ah, yes, there's nothing quite like standing up in a crowded room while wearing a dress only to find that it's completely stuck to you, and there you are trying, as elegantly and gracefully as possible, to “unstuck” it. That just ain't happenin'.
However, there is one article of clothing that is absolutely the first to go as soon as you walk into the house - (You know what I'm talking about, ladiesŠ.)
All I can say is it's too bad I was too young to burn mine with all the others during the 60sŠŠ
I have actually had to get Samson, my 21-pound tomcat, one of those little portable fans with a water sprayer so he can spritz himself in all this heat. All he needs now is some sweet young thing to feed him grapes while he reclines on the sofa.
Have you ever been driving along on a hot, summer day and all of a sudden the most nauseating smell hits you like a brick wall because you quickly realize you've passed something dead, so you begin to roll down the windows to get the horrid smell out of your car only to discover that that actually makes the situation worse? Never mind. I guess it's just me who does that.
My Aunt Margaret had a cat named Sylvester that was as mean as could be. He was a black-and-white cat who pulled himself along with his two front legs because his hind legs didn't work. His backend had accidentally caught a screen door one day as he was running through, and, unfortunately, the impact left his back legs paralyzed.
Even I, being the animal lover I am, would have done all I could to spare poor Sylvester's life, but my Aunt Margaret has me beat by a country mile. Not only could she not have the kitten put to sleep, she carried him around just like a baby and took care of him - for 10 years.
Well, the time came, and Sylvester was called to Kitty Heaven. My aunt was absolutely inconsolable. While his furry corpse lay wrapped in a blanket inside his pet carrier, my aunt begged my daddy to bury Sylvester in my grandmother's yard and place this huge concrete cat monument over the grave. My dad, being the softie he was, did just that.
Or so we thought.
A couple of days later, Mama and Aunt Margaret went to visit my grandmother. While walking under the carport in the summer heat, they were hit with an overpowering, putrid smell.
“What is that?” my mom asked.
The two got to looking around and, much to my aunt's horror, soon discovered that my dad had buried Sylvester's blanket all right - but he had left something behind.
“MY BABY!” my aunt wailed as my mom did everything to try and console her upon their mummified discovery.
Somehow or another, Daddy had buried Sylvester's heavy blanket thinking the cat was inside of it, but, alas, he wasn't.
My cousin had to come take care of the real remains, and my daddy was none the wiser.
I guess the heat can play tricks on you after all.
Regina Grayson is managing editor of The Luverne Journal. She can be reached at 335-3541 or by email: firstname.lastname@example.org.