Overdoing It

Overdoing It

Sunday’s in the house were always a good time, thought Giblet. Besides everyone sleeping late and a general laid-back atmosphere, the Man-Person, who liked to cook, always made a special meal on Sundays.  He would often say one of the pleasures of a family is gathering everyone around the table at least once a week for a special repast.

Not only would the family enjoy a well-prepared, exceptional meal, but some of the cats and Iko would enjoy a special treat.  At Sunday dinner, Giblet usually could depend on a few handouts from the children, and Iko never left Man-Person’s side as long as he was eating.  All told, Sundays had a lot going for them.

However, Giblet had noted a severe reduction in Sundays’ laid-back nature, and the quality of the evening meal. He thought this was due to something the Man-Person was doing called “remodeling.”

Giblet was finishing his mid-afternoon nap when the Man-Person came stumbling into the master bedroom, groaned once, and laid down on the floor.

The floor? Giblet had never seen the Man-Person on the floor unless it was to pick something up or look under the bed. His curiosity piqued, he leaned over the edge of the bed. The Man was indeed lying on the floor.

The bed shook almost imperceptibly. Without turning around, Giblet knew Belle had joined him.

“What’s going on?” the young black cat meowed at him.

“The Man-Person came in and laid down on the floor.  I think he’s dead.”

“Oh no. Are you sure?” Belle asked, leaning over and looking down at the Man.

“Yup, he’s definitely dead,” Giblet pronounced with authority.

“He’s not dead,” Mittens announced, hopping onto the bed to join the other two cats. “Stop scaring Belle like that.”

“How do you know he’s not dead,” he questioned.

“If the Man-Person were dead, there would be scavengers at the door,”

“Look! He just moved his leg,” Belle said, motioning with her paw.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Giblet responded. “That could just be a post-mortem muscle contraction.”

At that point, the Man let out another soft groan and moved his arm.

Both cats looked at Giblet with raised eyebrows and flattened ears.

“Well, he’s practically dead,” he meowed defiantly, not wanting to give an inch. “He won’t last long.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Belle asked with concern.

“He overdid it again,” the Protector responded. “The Woman-Person was scolding him for trying to do too much on the kitchen remodel.  She told him to hire someone to do the work, but the Man-Person is stubborn—and perhaps a little cheap,” she added. “He can’t stand to pay for the work that he once did for a living.

Belle looked confused, so Giblet filled in the backstory.

“The Man-Person was a contractor/remodeler and worked on a lot of kitchens, but that was over ten years ago, long before you joined the family. However, he thinks he can still do the same work.”

“And, he has a human disease called arthritis,” Mittens contributed. “He shouldn’t be doing this kind of work anymore.”

“Unfortunately, I can protect our people from a lot of things,” Mittens admitted. “But, I cannot protect people from their own worst inclinations.”

“Their own stupidity,” Giblet added with a judgemental meow.

“Robert—Where are you?“ came a voice from downstairs.

“I’m up here, on the floor,” came the feeble response from the Man.

A moment later, the Woman-Person arrived at the door of the bedroom.

“What are you doing on the floor?” the Woman-Person asked.

“I’m filthy,” he responded. “I don’t want to mess up the bed.”

“My bed,” Giblet meowed.

“Hush,” Mittens chastened.

“I guess we are ordering in tonight…Again?” she observed.

“The new kitchen will look great,” the Man-Person offered in defense.

“I never wanted a new kitchen, and you are the chef of the family. Besides, a new kitchen is not worth it if you hurt yourself doing it,” she countered. “How about pizza and pasta carryout from Nick’s?”

All the Man-Person could do was nod weakly and groan one more time.

With a look of fifty percent concern and exasperation, the Woman-Person said, “Take a hot shower and come downstairs for your Martini.  It will make you feel better.” Her answer was another groan.

“The Woman-Person really sounds mad,” Belle observed with a worried look. “She’s going to scold the Man-Person, isn’t she?”

“He’s in store for a long night of I-told-you-so’s,” Mittens admitted.

Always the concerned one, Belle asked: “What can we do?”

“Not much,” Mittens meowed. “Best is to give the Man-Person purrs and head bumps when he gets cleaned up and sits down for his Martini.  He will appreciate that.”

“Well, I am going to do more than that for my family,” Giblet said with determination and resolve. “If he dies, I’m going to eat his pasta!”