This story was emailed to me....I'm still giggling....
We've all had trouble with our animals, but I don't think anyone can top
this story:
>Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate my
>excuse, I always get the feeling that my boss thinks I'm lying. On one
>recent occasion, I had a valid reason but lied anyway, because the truth was
>just too darned humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had sustained a head
>injury, and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day. By then, I
>reasoned, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on the top of my
>head.
>
>The accident occurred mainly because I had given in to my wife's wishes to
>adopt a cute little kitty. Initially, the new acquisition was no problem.
>Then one morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my
>wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen.
>"Honey! The garbage disposal is dead again. Please come reset it."
>"You know where the button is," I protested through the shower pitter-patter
>and steam. "Reset it yourself!"
>"But I'm scared!" she persisted. "What if it starts going and sucks me in?"
>There was a meaningful pause and then, "C'mon, it'll only take you a
>second."
>So out I came, dripping wet and butt naked, hoping that my silent outraged
>nudity would make a statement about how I perceived her behavior as
>extremely cowardly. Sighing loudly, I squatted down and stuck my head under
>sink to find the button. It is the last action I remember performing. It
>struck without warning, and without any respect to my circumstances.
>No, it wasn't the hexed disposal, drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth.
>It was our new kitty, who discovered the fascinating dangling objects she
>spied hanging between my legs. She had been poised around the corner and
>stalked me as I reached under the sink. And, at the precise moment when I
>was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged
>them with her needle-like claws. I lost all rational thought to control
>orderly bodily movements, blindly rising at a violent rate of speed, with
>the full weight of kitten hanging from my masculine region.
>Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome.Men, in
>this predicament, choose only the "flight" option. I know this from
>experience. I was fleeing straight up into the air when the sink and
>cabinet bluntly and forcefully impeded my ascent. The impact knocked me out
>cold.
>When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Now there are not
>many things in this life worse than finding oneself lying on the kitchen
>floor butt naked in front of a group of "been-there, done-that" paramedics.
>Even worse, having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics were all
>snorting loudly as they tried to conduct their work, all the while trying to
>suppress their hysterical laughter... and not succeeding.
>Somehow I lived through it all.
>A few days later I finally made it back in to the office, where colleagues
>tried to coax an explanation out of me about my head injury.
>I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk about, which it was.
>"What's the matter?" They all asked, "Cat got your tongue?"
>If they only knew!
>
>Why is it that only the women laugh at this?
We've all had trouble with our animals, but I don't think anyone can top
this story:
>Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate my
>excuse, I always get the feeling that my boss thinks I'm lying. On one
>recent occasion, I had a valid reason but lied anyway, because the truth was
>just too darned humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had sustained a head
>injury, and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day. By then, I
>reasoned, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on the top of my
>head.
>
>The accident occurred mainly because I had given in to my wife's wishes to
>adopt a cute little kitty. Initially, the new acquisition was no problem.
>Then one morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my
>wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen.
>"Honey! The garbage disposal is dead again. Please come reset it."
>"You know where the button is," I protested through the shower pitter-patter
>and steam. "Reset it yourself!"
>"But I'm scared!" she persisted. "What if it starts going and sucks me in?"
>There was a meaningful pause and then, "C'mon, it'll only take you a
>second."
>So out I came, dripping wet and butt naked, hoping that my silent outraged
>nudity would make a statement about how I perceived her behavior as
>extremely cowardly. Sighing loudly, I squatted down and stuck my head under
>sink to find the button. It is the last action I remember performing. It
>struck without warning, and without any respect to my circumstances.
>No, it wasn't the hexed disposal, drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth.
>It was our new kitty, who discovered the fascinating dangling objects she
>spied hanging between my legs. She had been poised around the corner and
>stalked me as I reached under the sink. And, at the precise moment when I
>was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged
>them with her needle-like claws. I lost all rational thought to control
>orderly bodily movements, blindly rising at a violent rate of speed, with
>the full weight of kitten hanging from my masculine region.
>Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome.Men, in
>this predicament, choose only the "flight" option. I know this from
>experience. I was fleeing straight up into the air when the sink and
>cabinet bluntly and forcefully impeded my ascent. The impact knocked me out
>cold.
>When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Now there are not
>many things in this life worse than finding oneself lying on the kitchen
>floor butt naked in front of a group of "been-there, done-that" paramedics.
>Even worse, having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics were all
>snorting loudly as they tried to conduct their work, all the while trying to
>suppress their hysterical laughter... and not succeeding.
>Somehow I lived through it all.
>A few days later I finally made it back in to the office, where colleagues
>tried to coax an explanation out of me about my head injury.
>I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk about, which it was.
>"What's the matter?" They all asked, "Cat got your tongue?"
>If they only knew!
>
>Why is it that only the women laugh at this?