Outed by a Six-year Old! — My daughter and I *re…

August 1, 2006

Outed by a Six-year Old! —

My daughter and I *really* need to talk. I had quite ingeniously concocted a scheme to cajole, beg and otherwise convince my dear and loving husband (aka Mr. Sexy) that we need to keep the cat. This, however, was dependent on his being home and in my immediate presence.

Alas and alack, it was not to be. The night before he came home, DLH asked to speak to Dear Daughter. Completely unsuspecting, I handed her the phone.

“Guess what, Daddy?” she pipes up first thing, happy as can be. “We’ve got a new cat!”

“Really?!” I hear him say incredulously over the phone.

“Yeah, and he’s really, really cool,” she adds.

“Ahhhh!” I moan aloud without intending to, smacking my hand to my forehead. Benedict Arnold comes to mind.

“What?!” Dear Daughter asks, realizing that quite possibly she has done something she shouldn’t have. “Was I not supposed to tell him?”

Why don’t they come with instructions?

Those dreaded words: “Put your mother back on the phone” emit over the phone line, and I take back the phone, feeling like a naughty child.

“So, you have a cat?” he asks in his best accusatory but still incredibly sexy tone. I instantly know I need to do some quick back pedaling.

“Well, not really,” I lie. “It’s just that this cat has been eating the fish in our pond, so I thought that if I gave it a little something to eat that it wouldn’t eat any more fish.” (Strategy #1)

“So is it inside or outside right now?” He is so damn smart.

“Inside,” I say, realizing that I am down to one-word answers. Not a good place.

“And Smokey’s outside,” he says matter-of-factly. Anathema if it’s true.

I quickly rally, newly inspired by the fact that I don’t have to keep lying. “No, he’s right here,” I say.

“With the cat?”

“Yes!” Now I’m really enthused.

“They get along?”

“Yes!” I say, still at one-word answers but feeling *much* better.


It’s not much, but it’s enough that I’m breathing a sigh of relief. The conversation continues and I quickly steer it toward a new topic. Dear Daughter snuggles next to me, hoping I’m not angry that she sent me to the dog house, and I whisper to her that it’s not her fault.

“Just keep it out of our bed,” DLH says, worried that Cat with No Name might transfer some highly infectious and not-easily-curable cat disease to him.

“I will,” I promise heartily, silently willing myself to remember to wash the sheets before he gets home.

My thanks to Ricardo for the keen observation that a photo of the cat would be nice. “McFly, hello?! Are you in there, McFly?!” Duh. CNN’s photos should be up on Flickr soon. (CNN stands for Cat with No Name — not to be overly misleading or anything.) Thanks, Ricardo!


One comment

  1. Your are welcome Angela.

    CNN is a very nice looking cat. I bet he is purring like a vapor engine when the picture was taken… the eyes, the face and the extended arms and paws say it all…

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