It happens to a lot of us. By the time you hit age 50, scenes and lines from five decades of movies start to take over your free thinking. Instead of a blank space between your ears that you intend to fill with new, exciting, maybe even unique thoughts, old movie lines infiltrate the speech center and out they come.
For instance, one day this past week I walked into the den and there on the floor was a dead mouse. I knew the cat had killed it. That's his job. And I always thank him for it. Always. Cats need to hear from you that they did a good job. It makes their next job so much easier. The thing is, the cat, a 15-year-old tomcat named "Lucky", wasn't quite ready to be complimented by an old guy who'd seen "Miller's Crossing" way too many times.
"You wuz a good sport to bump the schmatta," I told the cat.
I figured Lucky could either accept the compliment as it was given and then "dangle" or else "let it drift" and go back to sleep.
