Love bites? Hate bites?

I know you’re all asking, “What did Sarah and Dave do for New Year’s?” I’ve tried starting a rumour that we were out at a rave, decked out with glow sticks and cat-in-the-hat hats, huffing nitrous oxide until four in the morning, but that rumour won’t seem to take. The truth is: we stayed in. It gets better: we also sang a lot of karaoke—although we didn’t actually rent a karaoke machine (and would that have made it better or worse?) Our cable provider, Rogers, has a new Karaoke on Demand feature that we guiltily indulge in every so often. I would guess the catalogue has somewhere around two-hundred songs, so at this point we’ve tried out every song we were interested in, and a few that we never should have attempted. Sarah’s fond of slightly older stuff—Boston, Huey Lewis, Backstreet Boys, and The Cardigans. I’m too cool for school, so I try to go current—Hot, Hot Heat, Fall-Out Boy, OK Go, and All American Rejects. I love songs where a guy is singing at the very edge of his range—where his voice even breaks but in a cool, rock and roll way. I try to pull of the same thing, and my voice breaks too, but in a way that’s not at all rock and roll way; in more of a coughing and gagging way.

But this entry isn’t actually about karaoke so much as it’s about Gunther. Gunther hates it when we sing. Or maybe he likes it when we sing and just expresses it in a messed up way.

Because singing in his presence causes Gunther to bite you.

He’s not a mean cat at all. I mean, he’ll give Moe the odd suplex when the little one’s been on his case all day, but otherwise he’s a really gentle cat. Example: when Sarah’s two year-old cousin Jacob visited, Jake spent half his stay totally tormenting Gunther—swiping at him, pushing down on his stomach—and while the Gunner squawked a lot, that’s all he did. He just endured it. He’s a sweetheart, and this is why it’s hard to interpret the biting. When you’re singing—especially when you’re sustaining a note—he’ll walk over and casually bite you. Or sometimes he’ll bite Moe on the back. Or if neither of those two options is possible, sometimes he’ll stand up on his hind legs and chomp on the couch. It’s not a hard bite, it doesn’t break the skin. It’s more like his version of holding hands. Or maybe not. Maybe he hates it but just can’t bring himself to really hurt you. I honestly don’t know. Anyone out there have a remotely similar experience?