A Boy Of Few Words

Last Friday, the boy who is Gauged And Aerodynamic had a few things to say. This is noteworthy because, of all my students, he is the one with the least inclination to "share." Nor is he particularly enamoured of those who tend to share without reservation.

In fact, the few times he has spoken up, it has been to point out my tendency to gab. He is not a fan. I like to think that he is trying to be helpful and that he just doesn't always find the right words to most clearly express himself. I don't believe he truly thinks that I never shut up or that the sound of my voice is enough to put him to sleep just for the escape value.

He has gotten rather good at tuning me out most of the time. He turns those aerodynamic ears my way when there are directions to be heard, but isn't all that interested in my irrelevant chatter. I sometimes picture my words shooting right through those gi-normous holes he's managed to stretch into his lobes...

This is why I was so surprised when he inserted himself into a conversation I was having with the Cheerful Teaching Assistant regarding the Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty and the effects of his new game. He likes to sit in the chair by the wall that I pass on my way to other parts of the manse. He particularly enjoys waiting until bedtime then reaching out and snagging my pajama bottoms as I make my way to bed. More than once, he has actually managed to rearrange my sleepwear in such a way as to render me indecent.

I didn't tell this part of the story at school, though. My students don't need that mental image and they are all too busy learning to take time out of the day for therapy. It would require lots of time on the couch for the average kid to erase the image of his teacher losing her drawers, right?

But the essence of the tale was G-rated so I told it without the gratuitous nudity. I bemoaned my situation with this poorly behaved feline and wondered how I would manage while I waited for the AGK to find another source of entertainment. That's when Gauged And Aerodynamic suddenly sprang to life:

GAA: He just wants some attention.

Ms. Sheep: Pardon?

GAA: Your cat. The one with the weird name.

MS: Prometheus.

GAA: Yeah. That's weird. And he just wants attention.

MS: He gets lots of attention.

GAA: Doesn't look like it to me.

MS: Well, he does! Plus, it's bedtime when he does this and that is not playtime for kitties.

GAA: Do you ever pat him on the head when you go by? Did you ever think he might just want a pat on the head?

MS: He bites. Really hard. He can lock his jaws like one of those pit bulls...

GAA: Or how about a little scratch under the chin? Is that too much to ask? He'd love that and it would only take a minute.

MS: I scratch his chin all the time! It's just that it's bedtime...

GAA: I'll bet you don't even tell him, "Good night." That poor cat is feeling like you don't even care!

MS: But...

GAA: (returns to his computer game, shaking his head disapprovingly)

It is always disconcerting to be chastised regarding how to give your cat snuggle-wuggums by a kid who's overall style would fit in better at a punk rock festival. It is worse when you feel that you have somehow disappointed him even if you know you are not neglecting your Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty. The fact that he feels secure enough to playfully yank down my jammie bottoms without fear of retribution should illustrated that rather well.

My cat is not lacking for attention. Of that I was certain. I thought it interesting that this was the longest speech I'd ever heard from GAA, but put no stock in his words. I figured he was either having me on or just tuned out all my other cat stories which involve me showering my fur babies with love and crunchy treats.

Then I came home to discover that the AGK had gotten ahold of a skein of cotton and flung it all over the living room.

As I was meandering around the manse, painstakingly following the trail of yarn in order that I might rewind it without having to actually move any furniture, I wondered if I might have been too blase about the matter. Could GAA have been right? Was I not paying enough attention to my poor boy? Were the words of the kid with holes in his ear an inch in diameter really pearls of wisdom? And had I cast them aside without giving them the consideration they deserved?

I resolved to bring the matter up again on Monday.

I didn't get to it until the end of the day today, but I finally cornered my new Kitty Guru to see if he had any further thoughts on how I might be a better parent to my furry son. I hoped that my taking the matter more seriously would give a boost to GAA. Surely he must have been agonizing over my inability to understand what he'd been trying to tell me only three short days ago. I explained to him at length how I came to my new realization of his genius and asked that he please tell me more about his theories on cat parenting.

He listened patiently then looked at me like I was insane. He had no memory of this conversation and told me so in five words or less. Then he went back to his computer game, the same one he was playing when this whole thing started.

And now I've missed my chance to find out how I can pay more attention to my cat and save my poor yarn from further abuse. I'll try the pat on the head thing tonight. Maybe that will work. I only need one hand to hold up my pajama bottoms, after all...

SA