A Late Night Mardy Session

Once again, Spo Reflections has issued a list of words which are little known, little used, and should be revived for public consumption. One of those words leapt out at me like a pet cat lunging for a silverfish: mardy. It occurred to me that I have encountered several episodes of mardy within the last few days.

A few days ago, Warrior Queen retired early, as is her wont. She was tired physically and tired of listening to the baseball game on the radio. WTF, she figured, insomnia would interrupt her sleep patterns later. Also, the Phillies were losing anyway. The possibilities of being amused by the playing prowess of the home team dwindled quickly.

At about the same time, I descended into the basement to visit with our cat Oreo. She prefers living most of her hours away from Nyla and Gigi, and we oblige her by keeping the basement door closed. For all intents and purposes, the basement is off limits to the other two cats.

I always grab my key ring with the house and car keys whenever I go into the basement. The jangling noise keeps Oreo away from the door when I am going down, and to chase away the other cats when I come up at the end of the evening. This night, I did my usual routine with Oreo, sat and petted her, and told her what a good and pretty girl she is while we watch television.  

Usually, at the end of these nightly sessions, I turn out most of the lights in the basement (one is kept on 24/7 so she can see her way to the litter box during the night), and climb up the stairs. Also usually, with the key ring in hand, I am able to open and close the basement door without incident, i.e., before any of the other cats can sneak past me and cause havoc in Oreo’s domain.

This night was unusual.  My hands were full of other objects I was bringing up with me, preventing me from negotiating the door as quickly as I normally do. The kitchen is also dark at this time of night, so I did not see Nyla in the vicinity. She did give me the courtesy of uttering a meow as she darted past me and down the stairs.

Suddenly I became mardy. I called after her loudly to get her to turn around and come back up. My yelling was counter-productive. 

At times like these, when I want to get our cat’s attention, I forget logic and allow emotion to overcome my actions. Logic would tell me that cats have sensitive hearing and do not like loud noises such as kitchen pots banging, or middle-aged men screaming at them. In these situations, cats tend to run away from the source of the noise.

Nyla kept walking briskly away from me, nearly came nose to nose with Oreo, who expressed her mardy displeasure at Nyla’s intrusion. Nyla tried to find a place to hide, but she soon circled back to the basement steps and up towards the soothing tones of Warrior Queen calling to her from the top of the stairs. All the while Oreo kept up a steady stream of low, guttural groans.

Apparently my yelling had another negative effect: it woke up Warrior Queen. Nyla, suddenly overcome with a mood of cooperation, walked up the stairs and past Warrior Queen. Now, with Nyla and Oreo secure, we closed the basement for the final time that night and I faced WQ.

Wow, talk about mardy!

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This morning (4/22), I should be in a mardy mood for several reasons. News reports are now saying that The Donald is softening his rhetoric on the campaign trail and the GOP party establishment is warming up to the idea that he could be their nominee.  Snarl!

Now we find out that Prince has passed on prematurely at the age of 57.  His music overtook the Top 40 radio charts in the early 80s much like the Bee Gees had done a few years earlier. In both cases, I grew tired of the constant onslaught of their music.   And in both cases, I have come to respect and like the music, but only over a period of time.

In Prince’s case, I could see that he got sounds out of a guitar that Jimi Hendrix was only beginning to get at the time of his death. Then there was the unabashed energy and youthful sexuality in his work. Dear Lord, even at 57 he looked like he could pass for 30.  

Prince is gone. Double snarl!  The forecast today is mostly mardy with a chance of mourning.

The best we can do this weekend is drive around with all of our windows open and CRANK UP THE PRINCE.

(Thank you for reading.  Rest in Peace, Purple One.)