his temperance

I am pretty sure he doubted his choice of a place to sleep once I picked up my guitar and started singing in a heartfelt manner. That’s what I like to call it, anyway. I bet he would just say noisy but what does he know? At least he didn’t want to be rude, but I still noticed he got up in a huff and walked around before settling back down at least twice. I mean, I thought once was enough. I also noticed the look he threw me that seemed to say practicing anything this loudly at 2 am just can’t be Christian.

See, he’s very religious.

He didn’t find God until later, though.

He still carries the marks of his younger years, of when he was quite the bruiser. I guess nobody told him he wasn’t responsible. He seemed to think that it was very important that he not just let any animal who deigned to intrude onto the property know that they weren’t welcome by screaming through the glass doors at them, but also to beat them up till they cried uncle. If he could get to them, that is.

But I know my pop did eventually have a talk with him.

This was over breakfast, actually.

They tend to take their morning meal together.

Which is probably how the he got religion, seeing how my pop is a pastor and all.

But the talk was all about how he was getting up in years and that maybe not every animal within a mile of the house needed to be hunted down and killed. Just a suggestion, though firmly given.

And I guess he mostly agreed since he doesn’t come home showing nearly as many wounds as he used to.

And I guess I should be grateful that he retired as the local bruiser because, well, the guitar playing was definitely getting on his nerves. And I know what can happen when you get on his nerves.

But like I said, that was before he got religion. Before he took to simply huffing and rearranging himself over and over again whenever you happen to be playing the guitar at 2am.

And since I put it down I’ve noticed he hasn’t moved once.

Go figure.

I guess that’s a cat for you.