Crying conscience

"You! You are obsessed with germy keyboards and hand-washing! And you’re letting the cat lick your hamburger?” I’m going to have to learn new words to describe the way Matthew talks to me because incredulity is just part of it. Exasperation? Is there a word that combines incredulity and exasperation? If so, that’s the way Matthew was yelling at me—incredurationed.

Giddily, “Yeah!”

And indeed, Loki was standing to my right licking the hamburger I proffered him. The crotch-licking, cat-poop-walking love-machine was licking my hamburger. I giggled more. Loki grew adventurous and took a little bite with his one remaining front tooth.*

At that point my memory of exact events gets bubbly. I started laughing hysterically as Matthew fumaroled at me about the imprecations of letting one of our pets share the food that was about to go into the mouth of his germ-obsessed wife. I was laughing because Loki actually did it, he actually took a bite, and Matthew was completely right that I am a germ-phobic tightwad.

Loki ran away when I started laughing. He doesn’t do well with loud noises, surprises, or sudden movements. I definitely fell under the “loud noise” category, as tears started to well in my eyes I laughed so hard. Loki running made me feel bad since he’s my special baby, and I really enjoyed being wicked, so I wanted him to come back and eat hamburger.

“Loki,” I called soothingly. “I’m sorry baby.” He loves me so much he came back right away. Instantly he was back in my lap.

Matthew said, “It really is ‘I Can Has Cheezburger,’” and we chuckled at that. Then, sweet, innocent Matthew went back to his own sandwich. I turned to Loki and proffered the other side of the hamburger. He didn’t waste any time grabbing a hunk or wait around to find out if I was going to do that evil thing where I scare him away. Oh, no, Loki ate wolfishly like one hounded by higher pack members.

I tried to hold in the laugh, I did, but it was too much for my little pea brain. I laughed again, though not as hard, not wanting to attract Matthew’s attention. Matthew finally looked, but he misinterpreted my merriment as the continuation of the first insult against feline-human germ relations, giving me the freedom to laugh harder. Now I’d fed the cat hamburger twice AND duped my husband, and the tears just spilled down my cheeks.

That cat. My greatest fears in life may be E. coli and taxoplasmosis gondii, but I can deny Loki nothing.

* Loki has severe periodontal disease and has about three teeth left. It’s not our fault, and he’s not that old. Life hasn’t always been kind to my dearest pet, which is why I always am.