National Read a Book Day--Cats Hate It

September 6 is National Read a Book Day. Why this particular day, no one knows. I read books 365 days a year, but I decided to crank my bibliophile status up a notch and do something I rarely do, reach blindly into a pile of books I purchased at the library book sale and read whatever my hand yanked out of my $1 a bag find.

A mystery it is, one by John Sanford. I tossed it on the bed and prepared to decompress in a quiet and relaxing spot where I could drift off to a world created, most likely painstakingly, by someone else and delve into a plot that probably left the author with countless sleepless nights dissecting possibility after plausibility. 

Some tea and a light snack are in order for the "holiday" celebration. How is this even a holiday? You see, calendars are like a walk on the moon but made for the average Joe and any fool can raise a flag denoting conquered territory or rather designated days without all that training, risk taking or containment in a rocket. Where would our country be without distinguishing anticlimactic celebratory days, such has October 26, National Mincemeat Day (barf), or May 3, which is Lumpy Rug Day (is there a card for that)?

Back to the subject at hand, reading.

Whiskey uses a classic reading prevention technique

Did I mention that I have cats and that one of the top 5 reasons for their existence is to keep the minions (humans) from reading? Other reasons include knocking things off of shelves, attacking toilet paper, providing alarm service at 4 a.m. and plotting elaborate death scenarios involving the furless.

Once again, it is a feline's sworn duty to prevent cognitive stimulation via the written word bound between two covers typically made of flexible paper or of stiffer boards, however anthropodermic bibliopegy involves binding books in human skin, which cats approve of. 

In the time it took me to prepare my cup of tea, Whiskey had strolled in from outside, obviously sensing my plan, and had set up camp on the book. Yes, I could move him, but that would be a very short-lived solution because once I opened the book, he would be back, his 22-pound body splayed across the pages preventing me from seeing but a few words that weren't covered by fur. 

I set down my steaming cup of handcrafted tea I call "From the Heart." It is made from organic roots and herbs grown on the hillsides of foreign countries picked by families, who for generations have practiced the art of medicinal apothecary, and then purchased online by me and mixed into a mason jar. Truly a cherished part of my day. 

The plan was to grab another book to use as a decoy that I could toss near the lethargic Whiskey, the cat, not the beverage, while I slowly removed my intended reading material

The stare down begins in the battle over the book

from beneath his snoring girth Boris, in an attempt to prove his loyalty to his species as well as to claim territory, wanted in on some of the book action. 

Being that cats are not pack animals with a leadership pecking order, every day offers a new opportunity for one of them to don the alpha ribbon, which is usually earned through a staring contest ending when one furball slinks away. 

In this case, I am the one who wants to slink away because my boys can't just leave it at glaring at one another, a winner must be proclaimed.

Whiskey (left) was an understudy for Freddy Kruger

Never mind that both of them will forget the whole thing in minutes and will soon be curled up next to each other in a chair in the sun, if, of course, I decided I wanted to read in that chair in the sun. Should I decide I want to read a book perched on top of an active volcano, they will be there.

As the saying goes, if you can't beat 'em join 'em. I am now reading a comic book and sipping cold tea in the middle of the bed while Whiskey and Boris wrestle next to me. It's the best holiday ever.  Happy National Read a Book Day and remember to thank a writer, and maybe send me a bandage or two, some hydrogen peroxide and a needle and thread. 

FINISH HIM