No Gaga. Why Gaga?!

Ben uses this phrase often and most recently when we were picking up Gary from Farview (my parents' veterinary hospital) where he was staying while we were out of town.

I asked Ben, "Do you think we should pick up Gary and see Grammy Susan and Papa Jack?" (As a side note, I'm not sure why I ask Ben questions where his answers mean absolutely nothing. No matter what he says, we're going to pick up the cat, so why ask? I think I just want to see what he's thinking.)

In any case, you may have guessed he said no. Then when the building came into view, he began to cry, "No Gaga! Why Gaga?!?!"

I didn't know what to think. Does Ben really not want to take Gary home?

I guess I can see his point. Gary is sort of like Goldilocks - he's always the offending "somebody" who's been sleeping in someone else's bed or eating their porridge. Although he's the smallest member of the family, no one is exempt from his torment.

Somebody's Been Sitting in My Chair. Gary acts as Ben's little brother playing with his toys, looking at him, and generally bothering him. Gary lays on Ben's blanket, acts like Catzilla on his train table and basically ruins Ben's life the way little brothers everywhere ruin the lives of their older siblings.

Somebody's Been Eating My Porridge. Gary eats Chuck's food... almost daily. I think Chuck is an easy target because:

1. He often leaves food unattended. Chuck has no idea how many times I've saved a turkey sandwich abandoned on his desk from Gary's greedy clutches.
2. He's generally unaware of Gary's transgression for at least a minute giving Gary time to work. If I had a nickle for every time I've heard, "Gary! Stop eating my tacos!" I could probably buy at least two tacos... four if it's Tuesday.

Somebody's Been Sleeping in My Bed. Again, almost daily I see Gary sleeping on Brandy's dog bed and Brandy pacing uneasily. She shoots me glances that seem to say, "Can't you move that cat? Please!" I like to let the pets settle their own differences so I've never interfered hoping Brandy will work up the courage to put Gary in his place. She hasn't, instead she's taken to sleeping on my bed. Hmm, this plan seems to have backfired.

Gary doesn't bother me the way he bothers everyone else. He's usually as respectful as you can expect a house cat to be and affectionate to a fault. Nightly, he cuddles my face and head, licking my hair and purring in my ears.

However, last night he crossed a line. A line that should never be crossed and no matter how much I wish I could go back, I can't uncross this line.

I was sleeping peacefully (for once) and woke just slightly to roll over (you need to be semiconscious to haul this belly from one side to the other) when I felt something soft on my face. I opened my eyes to see Gary cradling my face in his little orange paw. He was staring into my eyes lovingly and then he did it. He closed his eyes and... licked my lips.

Ew! He put his gross little cat tongue on my lips. That stinkin' cat essentially kissed me on the lips. Looking back, I can see he was putting "the moves" on me, but having been married for five years (or simply being married to Chuck), I am out of practice when it comes to identifying moves.

I still think I might be sick and resent what I'm calling The Midnight Attack. All I can say is, "No Gaga! Why Gaga?!"