went to investigate.
The Senior Cat had dropped a jar of marmalade on the floor. He was standing there staring at it in a slightly stunned sort of way.
I promptly said,
"Don't worry. I'll deal with it."
He went on looking guilty and apologising and I growled (nicely),
"It could happen to anyone."
It could certainly happen to me. I am just surprised this sort of thing does not happen more often in this house.
"Just back away carefully and go around the other way," I told him.
He crept back.
I surveyed the mess. Fortunately the jar was only about a quarter full but the glass had scattered far and wide. What is more the glass was sticky. The mess was sticky.
I got the dustpan. It is plastic. It can be washed. I managed to pick up most of the mess.
"I'll put it in the bin," the Senior Cat told me. He was trying to be helpful.
"It has to go in a bag first - two bags, one inside the other."
He got two "plastic" greengrocery bags from the pile I keep for recycling. I think they are made from potatoes.
"Hold it wide open and I'll put it in."
I should have been even more specific. His attention was caught by the mess still on the floor. He moves the bag as I am tipping the dustpan into it. More went on the floor. More glass broke. I pick it up again and show him how I want the bag held and ask him to please concentrate on the job.
He does. He offers to put the bag in the bin, I send him off with a sigh of relief but...
I go to get the mop, the bucket and other things I need to clean the mess up properly. I come inside to discover him walking across the mess.
Now I admit the marmalade does not show up on the linoleum. The linoleum looks like light coloured timber. It isn't obvious but...he was walking through it.
I point this out. I send him outside. I tell him to take his slippers off. I get his shoes. I take his slippers. I wash the wheels of his walker and tell him to go right around the house and come in the other way. He went off meekly.
I cleaned up the mess. I hope I have found all the glass. There were miniscule specks of it everywhere.
I washed the dustpan. I washed the soles of his slippers.
Later in the morning I went up to the shopping centre to buy some milk. Perhaps milk in plastic bottles is not such a bad thing?
I went past the bakery. I back tracked and went into the bakery. I bought the Senior Cat an apple turnover. I came home and told him, all over again, that I love him.
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3 comments:
Oh dear - the ability of the young, and the old, and, quite often, the male of the species, to compound the felony. Anyone can have an accident, but it takes special talent to multiply it.
Once we lived in a house with quarry tiles in the kitchen - nothing bounced. The children were trained to always wear something with solid soles and at the sound of a crash, their job was to get the dogs corralled in another room, so they wouldn't be in danger of cutting their paws.
I have just remembered an incident from long ago that illustrates the standard masculine approach. Mum was staying with me for a short while, and Dad had a mishap and spilled something on the hearthrug. He dragged it upstairs, put it in the bath, and gave it a good hot soak and scrub. It was never the same again!
She forgave him - he tried his best, after all!
Ah - like the Senior Cat putting a woollen pullover in the washing machine...it was small enough to fit Middle Cat - who wore it for a couple of years!
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