A little history before I launch into the very strange thing that happened to me on Father’s Day.
When I first adopted my cat, Marble, the rescue woman told me two things. He’s a character and he loves to play. That ‘s an understatement on both counts! The good news is there’s no need to spend a fortune on toys. He prefers household objects. The bad news is he prefers household objects. Things have a way of disappearing, especially bottle caps.
I don’t know if cats see color but if they do, Marble definitely has a preference for pink.
Then there’s my brother Jimmy who passed away over twenty years ago. Jimmy, as little brothers are wont to do, enjoyed teasing me, practically from day one. My mother loved to tell the story of how she was giving him a bath in his little tub on the dining room table. (Don’t ask. I don’t k now why she chose this spot.) But I do remember the occasion. I was five. He couldn’t have been much older than two or three months old. I walked over to the table and he got this demonic look on his face and started splashing me.
Now how many infants splash their big sisters?
Believe me, he was just warming up!
With that in mind, we return to Father’s Day 2014. I always plant flowers on my father’s grave, and since Jimmy too was a father, on his grave as well. I started at Daddy’s. I cleared a few weeds, dug a hole, inserted a red Salvia, covered it with the special soil mixture I bring from home, all the while chatting with an elderly woman and her daughter tending to their husband/father’s grave two stones away – Daddy’s neighbor so to speak. I walked to the spiggot, filled my watering can, walked back, watered the flowers there and after gathering up my gardening tools, pail of soil, and watering can, walked down to Jimmy’s grave in the next section. Nothing out of the ordinary .
At Jimmy’s I chattered away to him as I worked, telling him all I’d been up to since my last visit. When I was through, I gathered up all my paraphernalia and headed back to my car which I’d parked a distance away, not wanting to get caught up in the Father’s Day congestion in that area of the cemetery with its narrow climbing roads. I was almost back to the car when I felt something in my pants. No not that! Something that scratched. At first I feared I was being stung by a bee, but then I realized it was a round object.
It was right about here.
No one was around but although this was extremely annoying I wasn’t about to drop my drawers in the cemetery so I started working it down with my hands toward the back of my knees. Unfortunately they were skinny jeans and so I wasn’t making much progress.
Finally I arrived at the car and sat sideways on the front seat, legs straight out in front of me. I nudged and pushed and wiggled and coaxed it until finally it was at my ankle.
Ah ha! Just as I thought.
How it got there is no mystery. I recalled seeing a bottle cap on my bed when I layed out my clothes. I also remember Marble jumping up on the bed when I went to take a shower. There’s little doubt he had a hand (paw) in the joke. As for Jimmy? Hold on before you shake your head, and say she’s finally gone off the deep end.
Doesn’t it strike you as a bit strange that I was able to load the the car, drive twenty+ miles, hike to daddy’s grave, decorate it and repeat the scene at Jimmy’s grave with nothing untoward happening? Until – I turned my back on little Bro?
I don’t know – just saying. Do you think these two are in cahoots?