It seems as though just yesterday it was 2023.
The month of January is clipping along at warp speed and there is an edginess to the air that cannot be avoided. With lack of respect being the new normal and nobody budging an inch from their all-important self-righteous views, it is hard to know what chute this unsettled political world will hurl us down, and how many casualties will come of it.
"I think he is starting a takeover," I said.
"What?" said my sweet Sven, without looking up.
"I think Tuna is trying to take us over."
"He did that a long time ago."
It was true.
We just hadn't noticed all the subtle changes due to the bullshit spewing from the tv daily, which until now I didn't realize, had been the perfect smoke screen for the coup taking place under our noses.
Looking back, it is all clear to me now.
Like the way Tuna used to appear as a little fussy, which has morphed into demanding a new flavored treat every time you walk into the kitchen. How he just sits there and stares at you until you open the package that has not been opened. He will wait. He has time. He is keeping track. He knows what is up there. And how he plops himself in front of you if you are sitting on the couch and stares at you with those steady googly eyes until you get up and head in a desirable direction, which is always the kitchen, as that holds the door to outside, the door to the closet that holds the cat nip, and the counter where the apparently highly addictive Temptations and Party Mix are stationed.
Once he has you up, he will act as though it was your idea. And he will take his sweet time to mosey on out there, pausing to stretch and possibly even lick his butt.
"Tuna, God darn it all!"
Sven mentioned that Tuna is starting to mess with him and trying to make him think he is losing his shit.
"How?" I asked.
"Well, yesterday he led me into the kitchen the way he does."
"I got to the counter, picked up his food, turned around, and he was gone. So, I turned back, set his food back on the counter, turned around, and he was there."
"Staring at you, right?" I said.
"Well," I said. "Today he was sitting on his surveillance table looking in."
"So, I opened the door and called him."
"He ignored me."
"I blinked and he vanished. So, I closed the door, turned around and he was behind me."
"And he was staring at you."
"It's been a lot like Watergate around here ever since you got him that surveillance table," said Sven.
"What's that Louisa?"
Hold on, my sister is yelling.
Louisa wants to know what the hell we are talking about.
Well, two summers ago, I noticed a small wrought iron table with a mosaic tiled top and two chairs on a close out sale at the hardware store.
I came home all excited and by the way I was talking, Sven could tell that this battle was already lost. So, he invited me to ride shot gun and we got to the hardware store before somebody else bought that bargain of a lifetime.
"It wasn't that cheap."
"Shh. Sven, I am trying to tell a story."
Anyway, the next thing I knew the table and chairs were sitting on our front deck and I placed a centerpiece of purple petunias on top.
We spend many a summer evening on those chairs. It is a perfect spot to watch the birds and squirrels at the feeders in the front yard and to duck from hummingbirds coming straight at us. It would be a great place to watch the bird bath activities on the other side of the driveway too, except Sven's truck is always in the way."
"Tuna wants me to park it there in case it rains."
"Sven, would you please stop interrupting me."
Sven, however, did bring up a good point. That cat is in charge of our vehicles too.
Anyway, back to the surveillance table.
When the first winter was just around the corner, I began packing things up for the season, but then Sven stopped me when I got to that table set.
"How will Tuna be able to tell us when he wants to come in if you put that away?"
"He will have to hang from the screen door, and it has seen better days."
Well, that was the beginning of the slippery slope.
Today we are under the rule of a dictator who has no regard for our opinions, our wants or our needs.
Everything is all about him.
"Sven, remember the good old days? Back when the black hole was a democracy?"