Male Bonding In The Summer Months

“What I've felt, what I've known Never shined through in what I've shown
Never free, never me
So I dub thee unforgiven.”

James Hetfield of Metallica from “The Unforgiven” from Metallica 1989.


Guinness is our new cat, and I have decided that he is a whiner.

When either my wife or I leave the house, he whines.

When he wants food, even if there is some in the bowl, he whines.

He was urinating outside of the litter box and would whine until we bought two litter boxes—one for excrement, one for urine. Even with two, he sometimes whines.

When we eat, he whines for the food.

If he is corrected, he whines.

He whines when we go to bed and he is afraid of the other cat—which naturally means he will eventually whine at her.

All men must whine. I have had cats for thirteen years and honestly, the females do not whine a tenth as much.

Good Old Guinness reminds me a bit of myself.

Recently during Cardiac Rehab, I jarred my knee and blood flowed into it. After it “blew up,” I hobbled around and whined about it for seven days. Today I went to the doctor, who drained 88 CC’s of blood from it. It was caused by too much Coumadin—as my INR was a 7 (and supposed to be 2.5-3.5). Apparently if one jars a joint, it can bleed in the soft tissue and the more blood thinner leads one to bleed directly in the jarred joint.

Let me tell you, it hurt—hence the whining.

This is just one example in my latest cycle of whining. After surgery Pam bought the wrong cookies—I whined on which were the proper ones to buy.

I whined about my pills and how to store them and where.

I whined about buying a certain type of popsicles (don’t they all basically taste the same?) when Pam bought a different brand.

Today, when I came home, Guinness jumped on my lap, we sat and watched television; both of us slightly falling asleep; both of us waking at the same time when the neighbor started mowing; both of us whining about it at the same time.

Male bonding is a good thing. And after years of playing “ring toss” in the toilet bowl with the seat down while urinating, it is difficult and hypocritical of me to be too angry with Guinness for missing the litter box.

So when we choose not to do too much this summer and people bother us; they better prepare that Guinness and I will whine. Oh, and don’t bother us during reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond—we love that show—lots of whining on that one.