Well, as the title suggests... I "met" the vacuum cleaner. It was NOT a "how do you do? I'm fine, thanks for asking. Would you like a saucer of cream?" moment. It was more of a, "what the???? Why are you GROWLING at me? *swat* *swat* Don't get any closer... I'll... I'll... I'll... RUN!!!" And I'm a bit ashamed to admit it, but I ran... like a prissy, little belladonna... oh yes, I ran... mad dash to the bedroom... and well... under the bed. Okay... okay... I know what you're thinking... how can this big, strong, cat be afraid of a vacuum cleaner??? Well... it was loud! And it came straight. At. Me. Mom had pushed it away from her (I think she was afraid too- I've only seen her go near it a couple of times since I've known her!!!) right at me and I took off (after a few good swats of course- I was about to go for the KO, but then all of a sudden it stopped and went back towards mom!). Okay, I *should* have protected mom from the beast, but I had already started running. Do you have any idea of the amount of skid-dage I would have gotten across hardwood floors if I tried to stop while doing mach 3 around the corner? I would have easily gone through the bedroom wall... And I was only thinking of mom and how much it would cost to fill in the hole... Not to mention the firemen who would have been called to get me out of the tree I would have inevitably landed in... So, as you can see... I was really just looking out for mom's financial well-being. :-D The sacrifices I'm willing to make... I'm sure when my nine-lives are up I'll be known as "St. Riley of Barre," Saint of Sacrifices....
Until next time...
*Grrrrrrrr*(sorry if I scared you- I was mimicking the vacuum...)
~R
