Intermission continues: Clyde Converts a Mormon Missonary

Okay, one way or another, I will really get Part 6 of 6 out of the way tomorrow. Today, I once again had an extraneous project that I furiously pecked away at with one hand, between naps, and it took all day for me to do a fraction of a day's worth of work. But I must get this blog out of the hospital and put that stage of my life in the past for good, so I will do it tomorrow, maybe.

In the meantime, I thought that I would fill this intermission with a random picture of Jim, but the first "Jim" that I randomly clicked upon also featured the late Little Clyde Texaco in the process of converting a Mormon missionary to Clyde's own personal feline religion. Clyde called that religion, "Meow." The basic tenants are these: Spend two-thirds of your time napping. Eat all that you can and if you have to take it off of someone else's plate, do so - as long as you can get away with it.

Do anything that you want, anytime you want. If a human disagrees, do it anyway. No matter how bad you are, the human will forgive you, because you are so cute. Every now and then, snuggle up to that human, give that human a head nudge, say "meow" and then purr.

So, anyway, every now and then, a new set of missionaries will knock upon our door in the hope that they might redeem us; bring us back to fold. I have great empathy for them as I know just what it feels like to be in their lonesome shoes, to be wondering if your girlfriend back home who you cannot see for two years, who you fear will be married and pregnant when you finally do get to return home, is, at this very moment, making out with someone else, so I always let them in.

I just tell them not to preach to me and that it is better if we talk about things other than religion and that is best that they not trouble me to trouble them with my current philosophy. If they are hungry, I will feed them.

So these two came by, with a red-headed youth in tow, and sat down upon the front room couch. Jim strolled up and then Clyde came. Clyde sidled up to the Elder in the middle, head-nudged him and purred loudly. Afterward, he did the same to the others. Later, I heard that before this visit, this set of young "Elders" had been the highest performing duo in the entire Alaska mission.

After Clyde purred his sermon, I was yold, they finished their missions as sleepy, nappy, Elders who did whatever they wanted and ate whatever they wanted - even if what they wanted to eat was already sitting on someone else's plate.

Just like Clyde. Damn! I miss that wonderful Clyde! Little Clyde Texaco! What a cat! I even miss his preaching. He made a great deal of sense.