A Thousand Words

I have a picture for you that I think you will agree is worth a thousand words.   More than that, if we’re talking my words.

When I showed Teresa this picture, she advised I should just post it and no more need be said.

I think she was making the point that I should post immediately and not let this enormous (nonincome-generating) monster theatrical enterprise I’m helping produce stand in my way.  Teresa reckoned without, however, that it is moi, The Bean, about whom we speak.

Not too long ago, I looked up this word:  Loggorhea.  It describes one of my several, nay, numerous afflictions.  It does sound like a social disease, doesn’t it.  It is pretty much an anti-social condition, I must admit.

So there’s just no chance I’m going to post this picture without lots and lots of words.  I intend to stay up late if I have to.

In fact, I want to gin up quite a few words that will be completely unnecessary and immaterial and redundant.  Just to delay the reveal.  Because this moment is so delicious, it should be savored.  You should not be given this moment free gratis and for nothing.  See? Five words, where one would do.  I should be paid by the word.  You should have to work for this moment.

And also the picture is not as good as it could have been.  Because every cat-person alive who tries to take a picture of a cat knows:  You got to be mighty quick on the draw.  And if it’s one thing us loggoreehicks are not, drunk or otherwise, it’s quick on the draw.  It’s a left-brain-type affliction, you see.

OK, OK.  I’ll set the stage.

Despite the harmony conveyed in last post’s picture, the Long Bed in the bedroom is frequently the scene of sharp disagreement between the boys.  Never mind that I foresaw this problem.  Back when I sprung Fang from Base Camp, I bought him his very own New Short Bed.  And I velcro’d it down right next to Long Bed.  I pictured my two boys slumbering side-by-side in peaceful amity and harmony.

[snort]  I can hear you Cat-People experts making that noise, so why don’t I just join in.

Never mind that New Short Bed is the self-same model as Old Short Bed that both boys thoroughly enjoy in Top Shelf.  (See Bugs modelling Old Short Bed in Top Shelf – scroll down past the words to the end, of course – here.)  Irrelevant.  Immaterial.  Because why, you ask?  Because New Short Bed is in a different place.  It’s in the bedroom.  Not Top Shelf.  So of course not one boy will set paw in New Short Bed.  No, not one single claw of either cat shall venture forth into New Short Bed, no, not ever.

Reminds me of what happened when I bought Bugs his first Long Bed – the one that’s now the bone of contention.

Anyway.  Where was I.

Right.  Teresa.  So in today’s Tellington session, Teresa worked on persuading bribing both boys into New Short Bed.  And it really did look like the first Long Bed incident, there for a while.  Not for long, though.  Where treats are involved.  Bugs Mr. Treat-Monster was first on the draw.

Fangie followed suit.  I like how the light in this one makes the quest look almost devotional.

Here’s Teresa’s hand, making the point.

And so on.  It didn’t take long at all before Bugs collapsed in exhaustion at my feet on the bed, and Fangie placed his hiney, willingly, where we were trying to get it to go, i.e., into New Short Bed.  Unfortunately the Bean dropped the ball on the photographic record, so you have to take my words for it.  Yet again.

Anyway.

Teresa is convinced that Fangie is one sharp cookie.  She’s sure he figured out what she was asking of him lickety-split.  I too am also convinced that behind that goofy “what-me-worry” sidekick-type thing he’d have me believe is the real him, Fangie is one sharp cookie.  So Teresa and I agree on that, as we do on so many other things.

Anyway.  Where was I.

Oh yes.  More words.

So Teresa and I left the boys sacked out – Bugs on the bed where my feet had been and Fang in the Long Bed, what the hay, he worked for the privilege.  Much like you’re having to work to get to the picture, come to think of it.  Anyway.

We stood by the outside door, Teresa and I did, and we had quite a thrilling and exciting conversation.  Might you enjoy having a transcript of this conversation, before seeing this picture I keep going on about?  I thought not.

Anyway, so Teresa and I finally concluded our thrilling and exciting conversation and I walked her out the door, on account of how it was just a spectacular day and I wanted some fresh air.  So we looked in the window for Fangie in Long Bed, and he wasn’t there, and so we figured he’d had his little cat nap and had bounced up and I don’t know, probably jumped onto the play mat for yet another rousing four hours of Shoelace of Eternal Delight. I said ‘bye to Teresa and went back inside, and – no Fangie.

So I tiptoed into the bedroom.  Thereupon I became so excited by what I saw, I did not grab my camera like any intelligent blogger would do in my place – no, I dashed back outside to catch Teresa before she pulled away, so I could tell her – remember, I must have words – what I had seen.  And then I dashed back inside and tiptoed back into the bedroom and deliberately did not look at what I had been so excited about, no, very calmly and coolly I reached across for my camera and I did manage to snap off a quick one before Fangie ruined the moment by jumping up and trotting over to the play mat for, oh I don’t know, another rousing four hours of Shoelace of Eternal Delight.

What I saw at first was much better than the picture I did end up taking.  I saw:  The two boys, asleep in each others’ arms.

I must take a break in which I now hyperventilate.

Better now.  Oh.  Are you still here?  Are you ready now?  To see the inferior picture, because it’s less good, and not as excellent?  Because Fangie woke up and spoiled the precious vibe, with his “yuk yuk what’s for dinner” act?

OK.  Here it is.  Stand back.  Regard, in silence.  Use your imagination.  Try to see what I first saw.  And not this inferior less-good not-as-excellent thing:

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