A lipogram is a piece of work that intentionally leaves out a letter. I left out the letter “e” from my first lipogram. I wrote another one and “s” was the letter I didn’t include this time. Here we go . . .

My cat, Nike, definitely preferred the night time to be active, totally contrary to my internal clock. I commonly arrived at the office bleary-eyed, trying to explain to everyone that the feline creature that owned me quartered no mercy. Only one week ago, I arrived limping, to the amazement of everyone in my cube farm. In the middle of the night Nike decided to play with my feet, which were hanging over the edge of the bed, and playfully punctured my big toe on each foot, rendering me bilaterally, partially, and I hoped, only temporarily handicapped. My office mate took one look at me. I mouthed “Nike.” He nodded and went back to work. I limped over to my chair, carefully lowered myself into it and began my work day.

(Making sense in a lipogram isn’t so easy.)