I bought a used chair yesterday.
This wouldn’t be an interesting blog post if I didn’t add that my husband, Steven, claims the chair now belongs to his favorite cat, Elvis (and the jury is still out on whether this will end up being an interesting blog post).
Alleging Elvis owns most (if not all) of the furniture and appliances in our home is not a new annoyance. Steven claims the bed we share belongs to Elvis. He claims the previous chair we replaced belonged to Elvis, too. In fact, if Steven bequeaths everything to this heathen upon his death, I would be as surprised as Taylor Swift winning another Grammy.
The chair I recently purchased wasn’t in our home for two hours before Elvis wandered to my feet and meowed.
Me – What’s wrong with you?
Steven – He wants to know why you’re in his chair.
Me – This isn’t his chair.
Steven (stated as undebatable fact) – Yes it is.
Me – Show me where he withdrew a hundred dollars from his bank account and I will happily agree that this is his chair.
Of course Steven couldn’t because Elvis doesn’t even have a job (that I know of).
Later that evening, I am in bed reading. Steven is still in the living room watching TV when I receive the following picture via text message:
Steven walks into the bedroom shortly after to explain the picture. “Elvis likes his new chair.”
“It’s not his chair.” By then I was pretty exasperated with the subject so I rolled my eyes a lot during this brief exchange.
The following morning, I made the mistake of mentioning it again in the following email exchange:
Me – So if Elvis wants to claim the new-ish chair as his, he owes me $100. I will provide an invoice to him this evening and he will have 30 days to submit payment until it is repossessed and will no longer be his.
Steven – He’ll give you $100 worth of kisses, and head bumps, and nuzzles, and love, and licks, and purrs…he’ll probably give you a lot more than $100 worth!
Me – He can never pay off $100 in kisses, nuzzles, etc. Never. Besides, I only accept cash dollars.
Me(again, six hours later) – I’m still waiting for Elvis’s $100. It would be nice if he deposited it into my bank account today before the banks close.
Steven – I told you how you’re getting your $100. Kisses can’t be deposited into the bank.
Me – Kisses also can’t pay the bills. I’ll take check or cash.
Steven – You should have thought about that before you bought the chair.
And this wasn’t over. Last night, Steven kept following me around the house with Elvis in his arms, saying, “He wants to make a deposit,” before rubbing the purring cat against my shoulder or back. And when he’s done, Steven would say, “There. That’s worth probably 25.”
It never ends.
Now, in addition to “Gib Elbis Keeses,” it’s “Elvis wants to make a deposit.”
This is one of many reasons why I am and always will be a reluctant cat owner.