Just in case you haven’t stumbled across my weekly wilbur-isms posts before (here they are), I am married to Wilbur. The Early Man of the 21st century. He’s a pretty good bloke, and luckily for him, the sperm he produces are ‘female’, resulting in four daughters. So, he is outnumbered five to one (even the dog has been desexed), and he has the uncanny knack of blurting out some ripper words! It’s my job to document them for years to come AND to let others have a good laugh!
“Kyles come here! Come quick” – heard at a ridiculous hour of the night.
I ‘bounced’ out of bed, and stumbled into Murphy and Milla’s room (only five steps away, but I managed to trip over everything in my path – why do the girls insist on strategically leaving their rolling objects a.k.a ‘death traps’ in MY way?) with my fingers nearly poised to call “000” such was the urgency in Wilbur’s voice.
“Look at this” says Will.
I look, somewhat blearily.
“Oh no – don’t worry, it’s just the light ” says he.
“What light” says me (no time for grammar in the middle of the night)
“I thought that
bloody *insert whatever cat-like insult you feel appropriate here* cat has done a radioactive wee on Murphy’s face” says he.
Once my eyes had opened, I focused upon Wilbur hovering over Murphy – who is still sleeping soundly, peering at her as if she had grown two heads. All I could see was a glint of moonlight coming through the window, and landing on her face.Â No cat anywhere to be seen (lucky for said cat), and certainly nothing radioactive.
Apparently (or so the story goes), Murphy had been whimpering a little (you know – bad dream type of whimper), and Wilbur went in to investigate. Upon seeing the moonlight on her face, his first thought was ‘the cat has done a radioactive wee”.
Of course. Isn’t that what all cats do?