Bonehead: The Beginning

What's worse?

Although it was more than 15 years ago, I can remember the day it happened like it was yesterday.

It started rather simply with a phone call from my mom telling me that she and my stepfather, Les, had something for me. This was usually a good thing. They didn’t need a lot of things to be happy, but what they did have was of very high quality. So anything that I could get as a hand-me-down from them was always better than what I could afford to buy new on my own. So it was with some anticipation that I drove the three miles to their home.

As I arrived and walked into the house, I quickly glanced around the living room to see if I could spot anything new which might indicate what I would be taking home with me. Same couch. Same coffee table. Same entertainment center. Same, same, same. Maybe it was something from the den or one of the bedrooms.

About the time I finished my visual sweep of the living room, my parents came walking down the hallway to greet me.

After quick hugs, my mother announced, “We have something for you.”

“I know, that’s why I’m here - hand it over,” was what I thought to myself. “Great,” is what I said to them.

With that, they both turned and started looking around the living room - their heads moving back and forth as if searching for something small.

“I don’t see it,” my mom said to Les. “Do you?”

“No. I can’t see it,” was his response. “Why don’t you and Scott look in the den and I'll look in the spare bedroom.”

I was a bit concerned that neither one could remember where they had put it but I dutifully followed my mother to the end of the hall to the den while Les turned into the first doorway.

“Uh, I’m not going to be of much help if I don’t know what I’m looking for,” I said, trying to get some hint from my mother.

“It’s a surprise,” she said.

“Yeah, well it will be a surprise if you’re able to find it,” I thought, impatient to inspect my new possession. I didn‘t see anything new or out of the ordinary, but then again I had no clue as to what I was looking for.

“I found it. It’s in here,” Les boasted from the spare bedroom.

Walking into that room, I made another quick visual sweep but, again, nothing.

“Well. Where is it,” said my mom.

“Under the bed.”

“Under the bed?” I thought to myself. “Who would put something under a bed and then forget that’s where they put it?”

“Aren’t you going to look?” asked my mom.

“Sure,” I said, getting down on my hands and knees to get a better view. I lifted to bed skirt but I didn’t see anything. Wait. In the back corner. The glare of two eyes, the white flash of teeth, a low growl and then the hiss. A very long, very menacing hiss.

“I didn’t know you guys got a cat,” I said to my parents, looking up over my shoulder.

'We didn’t. It’s for you,” my mom said, smiling broadly, all proud of herself.

As I stood up, she must have seen the confused look on my face.

“We didn’t want you coming home to an empty house so we got you a cat,” she said, referring to the fact that my ex-girlfriend had moved out of our house three weeks prior. “Now you’ll have someone to greet you at the door when you come home.”

I remember thinking to myself, “What’s worse? Coming home to an empty house or coming home to a house with a cat in it?”

“We even got you a litter box," Les said, smiling broadly, all proud of himself. "He’s an indoor kitty.”

That's when the question became, “What’s worse? Coming home to an empty house or coming home to a house with a cat and a litter box in it?” The answer was crystal clear to me but, for some reason, my parents hadn’t seen it.

“Great,” I said, not very convincingly I’m sure.

“Let me see if I can find a box for you,” Les offered, appearing a little to anxious to be rid of the animal. “He kind of tore up the cardboard carrier he came in.”

“Okay.”

“His name is Bo. Or maybe it’s Biscuit,” said my mom after Les went searching for a box. “You can name him whatever you want.”

“Okay.”

“He’s a shelter kitty. He’s had it pretty hard as a kitten so you have to promise to take care of him,” she insisted. “Promise?”

"Okay.”

I waited until Les had returned with a rather inadequate looking box and made sure he had closed the bedroom door before I moved the bed to get to the cat.

He seem as displeased as I but, despite the hissing and growling, there was no scratching and no biting as he was placed into the box.

“I’ll grab the litter and the litter box,” Les offered.

“Okay,” I said as Bo, or Biscuit, and I headed back down the hallway and out the front door.