It was warfare at my house last night.

What happened was I made dinner. And a good one it was. 2 Bean n Beef burritos with chili, melted cheese, chopped onion and salsa. A feast to be sure.

So there I was settled in on the floor watching educational TV (no not the playboy channel) and eating my repast when there was a knock on the door.

It was the nice red headed neighbor lady (you remember her) and she wanted to say hi before she left for work. When she left I turned around and saw dammit da cat trying to clean the melted cheese off his whiskers.

It seems he had invoked the “if your dumb ass is going to leave it on the floor-its mine rule “He had polished off about half a burrito-chili cheese, onions, salsa and all. I didn’t even bother to yell- he was right after all.

Well as I did dishes he went and laid (I swear to God) flat on his back and passed out. When I tried to move him so I could lie down he growled, flipped a paw at me and refused to move. I had to pick him up and move him. Now remember dammit weighs over 20 pounds-when he doesn’t want to move that’s like trying to reposition 20# of black furry pissed off Jell-O. Or maybe like moving Cindy from a 2 for 1 sale at Red’s Crab Shack & Trailer Trash lingerie Shoppe. Also known as “Spandex be Usen”

But any way I digress.

Once both dammit and I were both laid to rest for the evening (so to speak) and watching that cinema classic “Larry the Cable Guy-Health Inspector”. I wanted to watch “Red October” but it was his turn to pick the movie. I guess I can’t complain. Last week it was a bootleg tape of “Cats gone Wild” the director’s cut.

Then the war began.

There was dammit laying on the back of the couch sound asleep when the odor of re-fried beans and chili’s strolled its way to my nose. I swear I could hear cat chuckles.

Not to be outdone I waited and was able to let loose a SBT (silent but deadly). Like a heat seeking missile it found its target. He shook his head in pain and moved to the body pillow on the floor.

As he turned in circles to make his bed-he stopped, his butt pointed in my direction and struck again.

Now it was on. I got up and ate a dill pickle, there were not going to be any prisoners. At one point he crawled under the quilt and in a terrorist action struck from there.

Bugles blared-shots were fired. I was afraid to light a cigarette or we both might blow up.

At some point in time much weakened we both gave up. The air conditioner was turned on and the air was cleared. He went to the bed room and I stayed on the couch.

The moral of this story is—hell there is no moral. Just don’t let your cat  eat beef and bean burritos before bed.

He was still cat chuckling this morning.