Kevin woke me up this morning with a cup of coffee and a mutter: “Your cat’s out there.”
Given that I was barely awake after a rather sleepless night of heat-induced tossing and turning, it was a full minute before what he said registered. And then I smiled to myself in the darkness. Baxter.
A few minutes later, I came downstairs and, clutching my steaming cup of life, stared blearily out of the kitchen windows. “Where is he?”
“He was out there on the porch,” said Kevin. “He’s skinny. And old.”
I watched for several minutes, but Baxter did not appear and my elation turned to suspicion.
Kevin had frowned deeply when I related my scary Baxter dream, had harrumphed worriedly at my Where’s Baxter post. He had a fit on Saturday morning when he caught me watching Sylvester and Tweety cartoons and pouting.
“Do I need to turn that off?” He started to pace, which is the masculine equivalent of wringing his hands.
“What?” I asked.
“I am an engineer,” he explained. “I am paid to fix things. In fact, I am a highly-paid Fixer,” he added somewhat facetiously.
Kevinism translation: “When something is wrong, I am supposed to fix it. And when something causes you discomfort, I am supposed to fix it instantly and permanently or you will leave me for a more competant Fixer.”
So I wouldn’t put it past Kevin to try to fool me into thinking the old B is still around, all summer. “Oh, you just missed him!” he’ll say as the empty elevator doors close, like Dolly Parton in 9-to-5.
I’m reserving judgment at this time, but we will know soon enough: I’ll put a handful of food out on the porch this morning, and if it’s still there in the evening, the jig is up for The Fixer.
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UPDATE 04/25/07: Alas, I was not able to do my cat-food experiment because I couldn’t find the bag. (Damn spring cleaning.) But I’m going to do it tomorrow morning for sure – so tune in for the verdict.
FYI, I got in a fair amount of trouble for this post. Apparently Mr. Fixer did not appreciate having his integrity questioned. He has steadfastly protested his innocence, and in fact is winning at the polls (see post Comments). Yet lack of hard evidence continues to hinder his case. This morning when Baxter failed to appear, Kevin was heard to mutter “That cat is framing me!”
Ooh, I hope he’s not playing with our emotions!
Sorry to see you still missing Baxter so much with no confirmation on his whereabouts. (I believe Kevin!) I know how you feel. I have this friend in Washington that no one has heard from in awhile and I’m kinda worried about her. Any advice?
I have a missing friend in Washington, too! Maybe we should go there together (with a large bottle of tequila) and look for her?
Woot! (Amy, I think if we just bring it over here we’ll get some uppity action!) Tequilla cleanse time. (We have learned all kinds of uses for the empty bottles too.)
Heh. Uppity action. That sounds…nevermind.
I suspect Kevin was NOT yanking your proverbial chain.
Well, SOMEBODY must be geting the uppity action, but it’s not us! I hope you are having a good week and allergies, work, MIA Baxter, and all the rest of it is going well.
Maybe it’s time to go next door, ring the doorbell or knock, and inquire after Mr. Baxter’s health? Could take a can of tuna….. and a sprig of catnip.
Kaydee & Lachlan, all of this “vote for Kevin” sentiment is touching. Keep it up and you might get your own category (Kevin Fangirls).
Amaya, I hope he’s not messin’ either, but I suspect our Fangirls may have it right. It’s true that though Mr. Fixer has a devious side, he’s also a pretty bad liar. Even half asleep, I would probably have been able to tell if he was trying to pull the, uh, fur over my eyes…
Jo, asking Mr. & Mrs. Nextdoor would be too dangerous. I’m not good with sobbing people…too messy. Must find more passive-agressive ways to deduce Baxter’s status.
Kaydee & Amy, I am alive and well and only a little traumatized from a job interview that was 1/4 horrendous. I needed a cleanse after that, so I’ve been on a Ta-Kill-Ya bender. I’ll explain ASAP.
I’ve always wanted to be a fangirl.
Yeah! we’re fangirls! Less than conventional fangirls, but, hey…
So, still no Baxter sighting? The “where is the neighbor’s cat?” & all encompassing possibilities has been the highlight of my pathetic week.
If the interview was 1/4 horrendous did it 3/4 rock? You rock!
I blame chromosomes. Men are hard-wired to “fix” things. Women are hard-wired to “nurture” in one way or another. So women can listen, sympathize, empathize, without being driven to action. Men interprets any chance remark as a trigger to leap into action – kill the sabretooth tiger, or at least run him off. The reason they don’t take out the garbage or nail that loose board is because they’re conserving their energy for when the tiger shows up.