Why the cat hates baseball
Bottom of the ninth, two out, one on, down by two. That's why I love baseball -- fragments of great stories in every box score. I love the Cubs best -- not just fragments of story, but snatches of opera.
The cat does not love baseball. He was climbing sleepily into my lap just as Sammy Sosa slugged the ball over the ivy. The ball went out onto Laland avenue, and the cat went half way across the room.
Cubbies went on to lose, of course. But what do you expect in an opera, a happy ending?
4 Comments
Something like the time Pooka was sleeping on my chest as I napped and then the alarm clock went off…. the human body can be like a CATapult! I don’t think Pooka hates alarm clocks.
Eric, you have a cat named Pooka? That’s crazy—our cat that was hit by a car and passed on this summer was named Pooka.
As an Illinois girl, I love the Cubs too. My brother has been just crazy lately. Here’s hoping we have a win tonight.
And what’s sadder still is that I know exactly where you lifted that last line from…
And what’s sadder than sad is I knew you would.