ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1995, Roanoke Times
DATE: Friday, December 22, 1995 TAG: 9512220020
SECTION: CURRENT PAGE: NRV-12 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
TYPE: COMMENTARY
To all the sporting types out there, have a wonderful Christmas. May all your favorite players be merry and their coaches be bright.
On bowl games, on round-robins, on playoffs, and tournaments. Dash away, dash away, dash away to them all.
Anything to distract a troubled mind.
Psychologists tell us that the those inclined to the melancholy suffer greatly at this time of year. How well that is known to the owner of the trembling hands that type these words.
Actually, it is uncertain whether this grim symptom is the product of anxiety or mere fatigue. Sleep, it is true, has been as hard to come by as a decent Dec. 24 snowfall.
That is the sad lot of those who share living quarters with one who has gone bad.
In truth, she's been bad and there's nothing we can do about it.
So night after night, we sit up, awaiting her return from another nocturnal sojourn. Grounding her was attempted, but that failed as she made good her escape whenever it suited her heartless pleasure.
Her morals are questionable at best. We know that now. Measures have been taken to mitigate the consequences of such behavior, but that doesn't make us feel any better as she wanders hither and yon in company the likes of which we dare not imagine.
Even that is preferable to the terrible fate that could await her on a lonely and darkened stretch of road on some moonless night.
Then when she does return, she often brings hideous trophies of her bloodthirsty crimes. Murder most foul is never a pretty sight, especially when one is confronted with the mangled remains of the victims on one's doorstep at morning's first light.
They're the lucky ones. Their untimely demise was no doubt a great disappointment to her, too. She can't torture the ones who croak. The dead can't provide the sort of blood sport she relishes. No, she'd rather set them free, giving them the cruel illusion that they have made good their escape, before she brutally hunts them down again.
Better the proceeds of this sport appear on the doorstep than in the middle of the kitchen floor, though. Removing the earthly remains of various mice, rabbits, birds and other critters to their final resting place is an awful chore.
Especially before the coffee is brewed.
We could see it coming. Rose, the wicked tailless cat, was offered to all takers earlier this summer. But not even the awesome market power of the newspaper you now hold in your hands could rid us of her.
Most unfortunately of all, we have now grown fond of her, her murderous and night-stalking nature notwithstanding.
If she'd just try to sleep at night. What a pipe dream that is. She'd rather jump off the high dive and swim some laps at the pool than relax between the hours of 1 and 6 a.m.
It was approximately then that she awoke the entire household last week when she knocked over a new bathroom cabinet that had not yet been affixed to its final station. The resulting crash shook the floor.
``She's broken the new cabinet!'' her mistress said.
Frankly, I thought Rose had been slain by the falling furniture.
Neither was the case. A night or so later, we were roused by the sounds of shattering glass as she knocked one of the Christmas candles from the window sill in the bedroom.
The tree is next, I know it.
Now, the question is, will the cheerful chap with the white whiskers and red suit descend down our chimney with such a potential menace awaiting him? Rose could see all that fur and go into her full-contact attack mode. From what I hear about the dude in the crimson duds, he's a peace-loving sort and would be more inclined to head for an address where he'll have a warmer reception.
What are we supposed to tell the children then?
If I could ever get some sleep, maybe I could come up with an answer for that one.
Ray Cox is a Roanoke Times sportswriter.
LENGTH: Medium: 79 linesby CNB