My mind works in funny ways

I was just upstairs, after having finished a turkey sandwich while perusing A2K, and after I placed the plate and utensils in the sink, I decided I was still a bit hungry and opted to have a slice of apple crisp with a dollop of Cool Whip on the top.

As I began to put the lid back on the Cool Whip, I heard my cat plodding down the stairs and I quickly dropped just a smidgen of Cool Whip on the floor. The cat rounded the corner, froze for a minute as she eyed this pile of white substance, then approached it. After sniffing it for a micro-second, she ate it with a speed and relish that I had never before witnessed.

After the last bit was gone she continued to lick the floor, trying to extract every last remnant of this unexpected nectar from the indiscernible fissures in the tile floor. She kept at it until I thought she was in danger of reducing her tongue to something the width of a piece of paper -- she would soon have this flappy red, useless thing dangling from her mouth.

I thought I must intervene and gently nudged her from the spot by lifting her with my foot and re-routing her to another corner of the kitchen.

She still paced the floors, obsessed with finding more of this miracle food. She was like a crackhead. What had I created?

I suppose after being forced to eat dried cat food, made of decomposing animal carcasses and whatever other god-forbidden thing those pet food makers toss into their concoctions, that the Cool Whip treat would, understandably, send her into this orgasmic state.

But, back to the title of the thread: The reason I chose that particular title was because the split second my cat began to eat that Cool Whip and exhibit her delight I flashed back to an incident from a summer gone by.

I believe I mentioned it here once. I was driving down a rural stretch of road around midnight on a hot, windless summer night and I noticed an unusual creature on the road ahead. The moonlight was quite bright and I examined this thing as I grew nearer and tried to determine just what sort of animal this thing could be. It didn't appear to be a carnivore, yet a creature that falls into the "hunted" category wouldn't move in such a casual fashion, turning in circles on the road, sniffing the ground, taking its sweet-ass time about nothing in particular. Easy prey, I thought, as I slid up and opened the door to find a hamster staring up at me, raising itself on its hind legs and sniffing my finger as I reached down to caress its nose.

Then it started on its casual way again, indifferent to the predators all around. I figured I had better try to grab it and take it home so it wouldn't be a quick meal for a fox or an owl, but he eluded my grasp and began to saunter off down a hardened tractor trail.

I continued on my journey, thinking to myself that before I had driven another mile a fox would be licking its lips.

See the correlation between the cat and the fox? Both stumbled across these unexpected, scrumptious feasts and will now spend the rest of their lives searching for the same. But the search will be fruitless.

I think of the fox, back at the den, telling his buddies, "It was small and fat and literally exploded in my mouth with a taste I shall never forget. I'm telling you guys, this was the nectar of the gods."

The other foxes will look at him, and say "Yeah, right, Louie. Sniffing around Ratzenhofer's paint cans again, were you.?"

Then, the fox laughter will subside and disappear into the mists of time, forgotten until now, and only remembered because of a cat's furious consumption of some Thanksgiving residue.