tinsely poo and other ways divine powers get their chuckles from my life

I have a mostly retarded cat. The only thing that saves it from being categorized as completely retarded is its innate understanding that when I scream, it should seek cover. I wish it was completely retarded. (More on this in a minute.)

We discovered two Christmases ago that tinsel is a seasonal favorite for Aqua. The vast similarities between Christmas tinsel and Easter grass were somehow lost on me this year.

Now, let’s combine the above tidbits and throw in the fact that Aqua does not like to be chased...by anything...at all...ever.

Imagine the mayhem when, upon attempting to return from the little kitty’s room, she discovers she is being followed by a rather stinky-poo version of soap-on-a-rope: kitty chow that she ate three days ago...you know, shortly after she consumed the festive and fluffy appetizer of Easter grass that said kitty chow is now clumped around and dangling from. My reaction to this accellerating kitty train of horror? Why, a horrified scream, of course.

Remember the single fact that keeps my cat from being completely retarded?

Now I have a mostly retarded cat hiding out somewhere in the house with the Easter version of Mr. Hankey the Christmas Poo...or what’s left of him. (And THAT is the greusome part.) I see much carpet scrubbing in my future.
And I think I may write to Dave Letterman and let him know the Top Two Reasons Heather Will Be Boycotting Holidays Honoring Jesus.