Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate my
illness, I always sense my boss thinks I am lying. On one occasion,  I had a
valid reason, but lied anyway because the truth was too humiliating.  I
simply mentioned that I had sustained a head injury and I hoped I would feel
up to coming in the next day. By then, I could think up a  doozy to explain
the bandage on my crown.

The accident occurred mainly because I conceded to my wife's wishes to adopt
a cute little kitty.  Initially the new acquisition was no problem, but one
morning  I  was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my wife, Deb,
call out to me from the kitchen.
"Ed!  the garbage disposal is dead. Come reset it."

"You know where the button is," I protested through the shower
pitter-patter. "Reset it yourself!"

"I am scared!" She pleaded. "What if it starts going and sucks me in?"
(Pause) "C'mon, it'll only take a second."

So out I came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping to make a statement about
how her cowardly behavior was not without consequence.

I crouched down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button. It is
the last action I remember performing. It struck without warning, without
respect to my circumstances.

Nay, it wasn't a hexed disposal drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth.
It was our new kitty, clawing playfully at the dangling objects she spied
between my legs. She  had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I
took the bait under the sink.

At precisely the second I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I
unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws.

Now when men feel pain or even sense danger anywhere close to their
masculine region, they lose all rational thought to control orderly bodily
movements. Instinctively, their nerves compel the body to contort inwardly,
while rising upwardly at a violent rate of speed.

Not even a well trained monk could calmly stand with his groin supporting
the full weight of a kitten and rectify the situation in a step-by-step
manner.

Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome. Men, in
this predicament, choose only the "flight" option.

Fleeing straight up, I knew at that moment how a cat feels when it is
alarmed. It was a dismal irony. But, whereas cats seek great heights to
escape, I never made it that far. The sink and cabinet bluntly impeded  my
ascent; the impact knocked me out cold.  When I awoke, my wife and the
paramedics stood over me. Having been  fully briefed by my wife, the
paramedics snorted as they tried to  conduct their work while suppressing
their hysterical laughter.

At the office, colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me. I kept
silent, claiming it was too painful to talk. "What's the matter,  cat got
your tongue?"

If they had only known.