We've  all had trouble with our animals, but I don't think anyone can top this one:  

Calling  in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate my excuse, I  always get the feeling that my boss thinks I'm lying.

On  one recent occasion, I had a valid reason but lied anyway, because the truth  was just too darned 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  reasoned, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on the top of my  head. The accident occurred mainly because I had given in to my wife's wishes  to adopt a cute little kitty. Initially, the new acquisition was no  problem.

Then  one morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my wife, Deb,  call out to me from the kitchen.

"Honey!  The garbage disposal is dead again. Please come reset it."  

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

"But  I'm scared!" she persisted. "What if it starts going and sucks me in?" There  was a meaningful pause and then, "C'mon, it'll only take you a second."  

So  out I came, dripping wet and butt naked, hoping that my silent outraged nudity  would make a statement about how I perceived her behavior as extremely  cowardly.

Sighing  loudly, I squatted down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button.  It is the last action I remember performing.

It  struck without warning, and without any respect to my circumstances. No, it  wasn't the hexed disposal, drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth. It was  our new kitty, who discovered the fascinating dangling objects she spied  hanging between my legs. She had been poised around the corner and stalked me  as I reached under the sink. And, at the precise moment when I was most  vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged them with  her needle-like claws. I lost all rational thought to control orderly bodily  movements, blindly rising at a violent rate of speed, with the full weight of  a kitten hanging from my masculine region.

Wild  animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome. Men, in this  predicament, choose only the "flight" option. I know this from experience. I  was fleeing straight up into the air when the sink and cabinet bluntly and  forcefully impeded my ascent.  

The  impact knocked me out cold.

When  I awoke, my wife   and  the  paramedics stood over me. Now  there are not  many things in this life worse than finding oneself lying  on the kitchen floor butt naked in front of a group of "been-there, done-that"  paramedics.    
Even worse, having been fully briefed by my wife,  the paramedics were all snorting loudly as they tried to conduct their work,  all the while trying to suppress their hysterical laughter......and not  succeeding.

Somehow  I lived through it all. A few days later I finally made it back in to the  office, where colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me about my head  injury. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk about, which it  was. "What's the matter?" They all asked, "Cat got your tongue?"
If they  only knew!

Why  is it that only the women laugh at this?

Hope  your week is better than his!!!!!!!!!!