when good kitties turn bad

I know that anyone reading this who knows our beloved cat, Zach, is already questioning how I could refer to this cat as “good” but I swear, he is. I mean, he does have that little problem of hissing at people, but he’s just very finicky. And, he only likes very certain people. Like, people named Jeff, Melinda, Elena and Ian. With the last name Burpo. And even then, yes, he can sometimes be a little finicky with us. Like, when he’s coming down from a half of a pill a night of his Prozac to a quarter of a pill a night. (Which we recently decided to do in an attempt to bring him out of his zombie-like state, as convenient as it was to have him spending 24/7 under the bed upstairs.)

The key is that when you are as close to Zach as we are, you learn to recognize when he’s in “one of those” moods. And, you just back off. He’s happy. We’re happy. No one gets hurt. So, why is it that I forgot this simple rule of the Burpo household last night? Was it the extra-large plate of delicious Southern food at Screen Door, followed by the banana whipped cream pie? Or, was it the mint julep and wine? Or, was it the exhaustion that overcame me after we concluded watching True Grit at home after dinner? It’s hard to say which affected me most, but for whatever reason, I forgot the rules of Life with Zach.

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