Your Cat Is a Klutz

Cute, but klutzy

I warned my father that my cat was a klutz.

After meeting our cats for the first time, my father watched the little one picking her way carefully among the statuary decorating his counter. Not a single statue so much as wiggled.

“She’s not a klutz,” he insisted.

“She’s being careful.”

This morning, he sat at the kitchen table, surrounded by piles of his work. Financial records, health records, correspondence, bills, and other important papers. He also had a tall glass of orange juice to drink.

The cat jumped up on the table, walked over to him, and threw herself down so he could rub her tummy. Right into his glass of juice. It spilled everywhere (including on the cat).

As I helped him mop it up, he said, “Your cat is kind of a klutz.”

“I know.”