Cat Tales - Part I
I didn’t sleep much last night. My cat wanted out at 3:00 AM, and when Jack wants out, HE WANTS OUT NOW! His favorite attention-getter is to scratch on the pantry door. The door is hollow, and at the middle of the hallway, so it’s good and loud in the bedrooms. It sounds like Freddy Kruger is out there, scraping his nails on the wall. You try sleeping through it; it’s damn near impossible. Jack discovered the power of the pantry door a few years ago, when it finally dawned on him that we couldn’t hear him scratching at the backdoor. And if God forbid I somehow manage to sleep through his pantry scratching, he‘ll come into the bedroom and start scratching on the closet doors instead. If that doesn’t work, then pal...you’re in trouble. He’ll either climb up on the bed and directly howl in my face or he’ll stand next to the bed and barf.
Ah, the glorious sound of a cat puking. I swear that sometimes he must put his own little paw down his throat to make himself yak. They really ought to record the sound of a cat throwing up and put it on an alarm clock – there isn’t a human being alive who isn’t instantly thrown wide awake at the sound of a cat puking on the floor.
So Jack went outside at 3:00 AM, but didn’t bring us home any offerings this morning. Usually he’ll show back up when I let him in at 5:30 with a critter (or a part of a critter). Yesterday it was a mole – good boy! Last week he had a banner week – a mouse, a couple of birds (I call him a ghoul when he snags those), and a bat. He seems to be pretty good at catching the bats; I think he finds them hanging in the hedge or down in the storm drain. For a while there he was bringing us dead bats or parts of dead bats every day. You’d come out the door and there on the porch would be a bat head. No body, just the head. (The heads must be a delicacy that he was saving for later, you suppose?) The next day there’d be another head. The day after we’d be blessed with a bonus – a head and one wing! It was like a twisted feline voodoo/mafia warning – behave, or you’ll find a bat head on your front stoop.
So there’s the joy of owning a pet. Jack is an okay cat, though. He and I are pals, as long as I don’t try to pet him too much and he doesn’t puke in my shoes. I’ll have to tell you about my other (nutty) cat; though. But that’s for a morning when I’ve slept more.
As for Mr. Jack, tonight I think he’ll be Kitty Outside all night long.
Ah, the glorious sound of a cat puking. I swear that sometimes he must put his own little paw down his throat to make himself yak. They really ought to record the sound of a cat throwing up and put it on an alarm clock – there isn’t a human being alive who isn’t instantly thrown wide awake at the sound of a cat puking on the floor.
So Jack went outside at 3:00 AM, but didn’t bring us home any offerings this morning. Usually he’ll show back up when I let him in at 5:30 with a critter (or a part of a critter). Yesterday it was a mole – good boy! Last week he had a banner week – a mouse, a couple of birds (I call him a ghoul when he snags those), and a bat. He seems to be pretty good at catching the bats; I think he finds them hanging in the hedge or down in the storm drain. For a while there he was bringing us dead bats or parts of dead bats every day. You’d come out the door and there on the porch would be a bat head. No body, just the head. (The heads must be a delicacy that he was saving for later, you suppose?) The next day there’d be another head. The day after we’d be blessed with a bonus – a head and one wing! It was like a twisted feline voodoo/mafia warning – behave, or you’ll find a bat head on your front stoop.
So there’s the joy of owning a pet. Jack is an okay cat, though. He and I are pals, as long as I don’t try to pet him too much and he doesn’t puke in my shoes. I’ll have to tell you about my other (nutty) cat; though. But that’s for a morning when I’ve slept more.
As for Mr. Jack, tonight I think he’ll be Kitty Outside all night long.
posted by Tommy G at
9:52 AM
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