This story falls under the category of hard-to-believe and hard-to-explain. But I'm game to try.
As my faithful readers know, Smudge is drifting into her golden years. She remains with five feet of me at all times, she jumps on my lap even as the outside temps approach 100, and she eats like an anorexic model. I had Daniel bring a five-month supply of Fancy Feast when he arrived from Denver in June, and she's been appreciating that, if by "appreciating" one can say she eats it with some slight enthusiasm. Before Daniel surprised me with the amount of food he was bringing, I did ask others to bring cat food, if they happened to be coming in the next few months.
Yesterday, I was sitting in the Subway in the basement of East Gate Mall waiting for Bob and preparing to go bowling, when Bob showed up with a giant plastic carton full of Iams cat food.
"It's from the ambassador," he said.
"Say what?"
Turns out that I might have mentioned to Ambassador Max Baucus's aide that I was in need of cat food. That piece of information got passed on to the Baucus family. Somehow they ended up in Beijing with no cat but an enormity of cat food. Bob didn't get the story completely straight, mostly because he was in partial shock at being handed a giant tub of kibble. By the ambassador.
No matter. We now have, courtesy of a cat who has been discussed in the highest levels of diplomatic channels, a supply of dry cat food that is likely to last longer than Smudge. I did worry, too, that Smudge might reject this ambassadorial gift. I'm not sure of her political affiliations, but I do know she is in possession of a little red book.
Luckily, though, Smudge seemed to enjoy the first half-cup of her gift. And I enjoy the story of how China makes us all resort to strange behaviors. Interestingly, not a single person at bowling last night asked us why we were sitting there with a giant tub of cat food. In the grand scheme of China moments, this one was barely worth mentioning.
As my faithful readers know, Smudge is drifting into her golden years. She remains with five feet of me at all times, she jumps on my lap even as the outside temps approach 100, and she eats like an anorexic model. I had Daniel bring a five-month supply of Fancy Feast when he arrived from Denver in June, and she's been appreciating that, if by "appreciating" one can say she eats it with some slight enthusiasm. Before Daniel surprised me with the amount of food he was bringing, I did ask others to bring cat food, if they happened to be coming in the next few months.
Yesterday, I was sitting in the Subway in the basement of East Gate Mall waiting for Bob and preparing to go bowling, when Bob showed up with a giant plastic carton full of Iams cat food.
"It's from the ambassador," he said.
"Say what?"
Turns out that I might have mentioned to Ambassador Max Baucus's aide that I was in need of cat food. That piece of information got passed on to the Baucus family. Somehow they ended up in Beijing with no cat but an enormity of cat food. Bob didn't get the story completely straight, mostly because he was in partial shock at being handed a giant tub of kibble. By the ambassador.
No matter. We now have, courtesy of a cat who has been discussed in the highest levels of diplomatic channels, a supply of dry cat food that is likely to last longer than Smudge. I did worry, too, that Smudge might reject this ambassadorial gift. I'm not sure of her political affiliations, but I do know she is in possession of a little red book.
Luckily, though, Smudge seemed to enjoy the first half-cup of her gift. And I enjoy the story of how China makes us all resort to strange behaviors. Interestingly, not a single person at bowling last night asked us why we were sitting there with a giant tub of cat food. In the grand scheme of China moments, this one was barely worth mentioning.
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