Today the Crazy Ol' Cat Lady welcomes a new addition to the zoo. This one is for Reuben, who slept on my lap as I typed this bit of nonsense.

Lots of felines need warm, safe homes, folks. Consider fostering! (This was a Zaedah public service announcement)

Pondering Splotches

It's typical for the woefully single to let envy speak generalizations about others' more interesting lives but I tell you, I see it. And it's big. I know a little something about animal magnetism and it's a wonder they don't get stuck to the filing cabinets. I can't be the only one in this lab that thinks they're as plain as grass. From my designated workspace, I chew over the sight of two beings wrapped around each other without even touching. It's got to be hard on the spine, all that contortion.

Mind you, I'm a little inexperienced as these things go. Still, a girl knows when she's in the presence of stifled attraction.

When a guy steals glances at a girl and the flames could set fire to a haystack, that's attention. When a girl does that little sighing thing and the guy's a step away from falling at her feet, that's interest. But what do I know? I never saw the face of the last fellow I was with. You know, in that way. Oh, he just swung around the back, climbed aboard and did his thing. It was the kind of excitement I could have easily slept through.

What happened to courtship, I'd begun to think. Didn't previous generations thrive on the act of wooing? I watch them and see romance isn't dead, it's just slow as butter churning itself. Again, what do I know? I'm just a cow.

Fortunately, I'm a heifer with talkative acquaintances. The old man has started discussing the unbalanced state of his offspring's affections. Of course, he's got warm hands squeezing my udders while he speaks and something about that pleasantness kills my attention span. He watches them as I do, though he reins in his need to moo about the obviousness.

Here's how a cow imagines a date. We gals see a fella over the fence and make eyes. And chew the cud. The boy looks for a way in and takes half the day trying. Finally, in a flex of bovine muscle, he breaks down the fence to share our patch of grass. And then there's mutual chewing. And contemplating the other's black splotches. Soon there's a promise of horns in all the right places. And more chewing.

These two could have that dream. So I've decided that when the old man makes that device he's promised that'll help me communicate, I'm gonna give them a piece of advice. Go chew some cud already. Together. And mind the horns.

Thus is the wisdom of the lab cow. And my name's not Gene, by the way. It's Govinda. But I let them call me whatever they want as long as they keep the Spongebob coming.

Apologies for the silliness. But someone had to do it.