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Mouse sermons always begin same way |
| When it comes to philosophy, Jimmy Durante said
as many good things as Plato. "You gotta start off each
day with a song," for instance. That was one of Jimmy's
favorite lines. And today I'm gonna start off with a song by
Rogers and Hart. I have messed it up a bit, but readers up on
their Broadway show tunes will know what I mean. "It seems we sat and talked like this before. We looked at each other in the same way then and I can't forget where or when. The lines you are speaking You were speaking then And how can I forget where or when. All words you spoke that first time You seem to be repeating again. So it seems I have to listen once more Will it ever stop? And when?" I'm not unaware that Lamie would lay down his life for me. Nor am I unaware how I, in turn, love him. However, he is not the easiest person to live with. Sweetie, Tottie and I think he missed his calling. He should have been a preacher. Heaven knows he preaches to us all the time and the reason I'm writing this column is because he's just finished lecturing me. That in itself is not so bad. But if I have heard this lecture once, I have heard it a dozen times - maybe two dozen - or even three. I know what he is going to say before it comes out of his mouth. I've heard it so often, I've got it memorized. Sometimes I feel like saying to him "Lamie, just give me the first three words of this sermon and I'll know which one it is." This morning it was Sermon No. 7, or as Tottie and I call it, "The Mouse Sermon." I brought in a mouse from my morning outing on the back patio and dropped it on the floor in front of him. I hadn't done that in months. I have stayed away from mice because Lamie tells me that is the right thing to do. He always begins the mouse sermon with, "How would you like it if some huge monster picked you up in his teeth and then started smacking you around the floor like a hockey puck?" Well, of course, I wouldn't like it. I mean who in their right mind would like a thing like that? I think he starts with that opening sentence to make me feel guilty. Then he launches into the rest of the harangue about how I lead a civilized life and get fed regularly and how there is no need for me to resort to the law of the jungle. Since I've heard this all before I'm bored with it and Lamie must have picked up on my indifference because he said, "Are you listing to me?" "Yeah. Yeah. Of course I am," I told him. "So tell me why you did this?" he asked, pointing to the mouse corpse on the floor. "Well, I haven't done it in a long time," I answered. "It's been months since I brought in a mouse." "So why did you have to start again?" "I don't know," I said. And, looking for some kind of excuse, I blurted out, "The devil made me do it." "Don't give me that malarkey," he answered. "You don't even believe in the devil." "Neither do you," I told him. "Now, don't get cheeky," he said. "This is no time for a theological discussion. What about this poor mouse?" he asked, pointing to the thing on the floor. "It's dead," I answered. "I can see that," he said. "And you did it." He was laying on the guilt again and it was getting to me. I said, "Listen Lamie, there are certain things we do by instinct, actions we were born with that have been bred into us for eons." "Izatso?" he said. "Yes it is," I replied. "If you were familiar with genetics you'd know that." "Listen to you," he answered with mounting displeasure, noticeable from the smoke coming out of his ears. I knew I had him on the defensive and continued with, "You're always lecturing us about the sanctity of all life and what do you do when you see a spider on the floor or the wall? I'll tell ya what you do. You stomp on it with your shoe or you smack it with a rolled up magazine. And pow! It's just as dead as the mouse on the floor." "Yes, but " "No buts. Dead is dead," I answered with triumphant finality. And then to soften things a bit I added, "You're right, Lamie. All life is precious, but sometimes we all become barbarians. Do me a favor please. Don't give me Sermon No. 7 anymore." Hey, it's good to be gracious in victory. |