Some days I wonder why I bother to read book at all: It's not like my life doesn't have enough drama already. In fact, my life is imitating art, and I really wish it would stop. Among the literature currently being re-enacted on my home stage for the holidays are:
The Invisible Man: The sci-fi classic in which a man (played by Madeline, our cat) discovers the secret to invisibility. In the original H.G. Wells version of the tale, the invisible man is driven insane by his invisibility. In our modern twist, the cat is fine, but everyone else goes insane searching for her for four days. The story ends abruptly when the invisible cat shows up on the doorstep and demands her dinner, but refuses to provide any explanation as to her whereabouts during the freezing weather that prevailed during her disappearance.
Marley and Me: A modern classic about a lovably naughty dog. We've replaced the story's original labrador retriever with an Australian shepherd, Rufus, who isn't generally very naughty. However, Rufus decided to play against type. We hosted a holiday cookie exchange last Sunday, and afterward, there were several trays of cookies remaining on the table, waiting to be delivered to teachers and mailed to relatives. We went out for an hour on Monday night and when we came back, one entire platter was on the floor, among a few remaining crumbs and some bits of tin foil. The tray in question originally contained creme de menthe brownies, and since I've been told chocolate can be fatal to dogs, I sat up all night Monday, trying to comfort Rufus as it all came back up, listening to him whimper and hoping that would be the worst of it. For him, it was. I am still cleaning carpets.
The Gift of the Magi: The O. Henry Christmas classic that has been re-told a thousand times, in which a couple with no money each sacrifices to buy each other Christmas gifts, but in an ironic twist, each gift is rendered useless by the other's sacrifice. My husband decided to re-write this story, but somewhat against his will - his car was struck by another car on the way home from work on Tuesday. I thought he was just trying to get out of carpet cleaning, but the other driver was entirely at fault. The ironic twist is that the other driver could afford a car but not insurance, too!
On the bright side, the cat is fine, the dog is fine, and my husband and his car are fine. The carpets and I are slowly recovering ... we'll be better by Christmas.
Thank you to the many kind readers who have offered support while the cat was MIA!