It's not everyone that has a cat with a tail strong enough to tip a mug of coffee.
Let me explain about me and coffee.
I eschewed coffee of any kind until I was in my 3rd year of vet school and discovered mochas. Coffee mixed with (lots) of chocolate I could stomach. More to the point, it got me through grueling Large Animal Internal Medicine. I learned to really love the stuff.
But I've never learned to love plain old coffee. When I arrived on Cape Cod, the first thing I bought was a latte machine. I still have it -- it's chipped and battered and 12 years old -- and I can't imagine life without it. So every morning while Tim's flipping a switch, I'm measuring, and tamping, and steaming. I keep telling Tim that the perfect birthday present would be him learning how to make me a perfect mocha latte. He disagrees.
So, when I make a "cup of coffee" it's really a solid mug of gorgeous steamed milk with 3 inches of foam, Ghiradelli chocolate, and shade-grown, fair trade coffee. What a great way to start the day.
Today, I decided to have a second cup (very rare) while I studied my veterinary flash cards. (Yeah, more on that in a future post...) I'd just settled down, mug beside me on the coffee table, Finn across my feet, my computer on my lap, flipping through my flash cards. Odin, loving morning as much as his Mama, was strolling along beside the coffee table, happy tail brushing its edge when the end of his tail wrapped around my mug and pulled it crashing to the ground.
As my dear mother would have said, blue invective surrounded my head like a cloud. Odin leaped away, Finn sat up to stare, and I about cried. Odin proceeded to have a bath looking imperiously over his shoulder. I'm quite sure he said, "You shouldn't have a second cup of coffee anyway."