Cobwebs

The Litter Box

His name was Gunther. He was a large butterscotch Manx. His litter box was kept in the basement. When he was about six or seven he decided that he was too lazy, or too good, to go downstairs and use it. He started using the bathtub. Now, I admit, this is better than going on my bed, but I didn’t appreciate it one bit. One day I filled the tub with about three inches of water. Splash, I knew I had him. The look on his face was fantastic, and if he could, I am sure he would have given me the finger.

He seemed to have learned his lesson. However, a few days later I caught him peeking over the tub and looking for water. He always checked first and then he would take the leap. I’m sure he figured it was just a fluke the first time. After a week or so he forgot all about the water incident and was routinely using the tub again. I allowed him to build up his confidence and, sure enough, he started jumping without looking. This time I filled the tub to the tippy top. As I sat watching TV, that afternoon, I heard a loud sploosh and there was Gunther doing the dog paddle. I can guarantee you he never did that again. Not only did I win, but when he walked by the bathroom he would take a few extra steps to avoid the doorway. He would also shoot me a look that said, "I don’t know how you did that, but I know you did." I keep telling my kids that if you are going to have a pet, you must be smarter than him. I’m not sure if the kids get it, but Gunther sure does.

Sea Rations

Someday I shall hold a contest and have people vote for the dumbest thing I ever did. The winner will receive tickets for two to a mini trip to hell with me. I get to do all the planning and pick the destination. That should limit the entries to a few million. People who have been involved in any of my hair-brained schemes will be excluded for obvious reasons.

This one came to Ed and me in high school. On Saturdays we would take the bus downtown and wear out our welcome all over the place. One of these places was the Army/Navy surplus store. Most of our earthly possessions came from this Tiffanies of trash. We had old sleeping bags, mess kits, canteens, tents, Navy storm masks, disabled grenades, and one very old Army bugle. On this visit we found some surplus sea rations. We came up with a great idea. Wouldn’t it be fun to buy a few of these tasty leftovers from WWII and live on them for an entire week? Just think of the money that we would save if we learned how to eat this stuff and in our golden years we could spend that money on a brand new boat. We made our purchase. The total came to about one dollar each, or about fourteen cents per day. That came to less than a nickel per meal.

Each kit contained crackers, vitamin pills, malt tablets, salt tablets, candy, peanut butter, canned meat, canned biscuits, lots of powered things and salt and pepper and sugar. All of these things were stale but that did not matter to us we were tough.

When we got home the first thing we did was toss out the malt tabs, crackers, coffee, and anything that looked like a pill. That did not leave much. We divided everything into seven piles and ate our first meal. After diner Ed took his share home and I stashed mine in my room. On his way home Ed ate all of his candy and was sick by the time he arrived there. The next day in school we both ended up in the nurses’ station with stomachaches. When we were asked what was the matter we told the nurse that it must have been something from the school cafeteria. Even though we were sick we felt better when the nurse and the kitchen staff tore the place apart trying to solve the mystery. We thought of doing it again when we saw the commotion we caused. Alas we had eaten most of the rations in the first two days and we wouldn’t be hungry for a few more.