Everyone has that weird sweatshirt-chock full of nostalgia and memories-and so full of holes, that leaving the house with it on would be a travesty. However, giving it away, throwing it out, or even cutting it up for rags is a horrible thought.
I have one of those in my life. A K-State, long-sleeved, 17 year old shirt, with blown out armpits, a barely hanging on collar and with sleeves I have to carefully insert my hands into for fear of tearing them off completely. The shirt is so embarrassing I won’t even take a picture of me in it or just “it” for that matter.
Maxwell, the cat, has the same thing going on with Brown Mouse. This was Brown Mouse just a couple of months ago. He was already pathetic-missing an ear, splitting at the seams and covered in disgusting-ness.
Brown Mouse was one of Maxwell’s first toys. The two instantly bonded over a game of fetch-which is one of Max’s favorite past-times. I know, it’s weird for a cat to play fetch. But, Maxwell has never been normal.
He has been baptized (sloshed into the water dish and then transferred to the food dish) almost every day. We have no idea why Max does this, but it’s become commonplace to find Brown Mouse, along with Q-tips or whatever else Max can find, floating in his water dish or covered in sticky food. Ewww.
For a few weeks, we couldn’t find Brown Mouse. Maxwell refused to play with Pink Mouse, Black Mouse and Gray Mouse. Then, one day while cleaning underneath the stove, I saw two little beady black eyes staring at me.
Just like my K-State shirt, Maxwell just can’t let Brown Mouse go. It’s awful when friends stop by and ask, incredulously, “What’s that?”.
I answer back, “Oh, that’s just Brown Mouse.”
“Well, it used to be. I guess it’s just a weird pile of fur and plastic now.”
“Why don’t you just buy a new one?”
“They quit making them and Max has refused all of the new toys I bought him.”
“Your cat is weird.”
Let it go, Max. I’ll give up the K-State shirt if you give up Brown Mouse.
What? Ok. I’ll keep my shirt, then.