My Darn Cat
I’ve had a few disagreements with members of the animal kingdom this week. The first conflict happened in my neighbor’s pool on Sunday. I was doing laps when I noticed a wasp hovering near the water’s surface. Since he/she was at the center of the pool, and I was swimming around the pool’s edge, I felt I was out of harm’s way. No such luck! As I finished one lap, I felt a sharp sting on my chin.
After a few moments of cursing and splashing water on the wound, I went hunting for my assailant. I found him struggling in the water near the other side of the pool. My first impulse was to splash the water down on him and put him out of his misery, but then I realized that this would be wrong. After all, the wasp is still one of God’s creatures.
So I splashed the water around him so that he was carried over the top of the pool and onto the ground. At this point, I grabbed a foam tube floating nearby and, with a mental apology to God, tried to dispatch the little bastard by beating him to pieces with the tube. Unfortunately, he was either too nimble for me, or the foam tube is a very poor weapon for homicidal purposes. The last I saw of him he was flying away from the pool, a little wet but still very much alive. I resolved to banish all wasps from the pool for the remainder of the summer, and I don’t care if he hires a lawyer to fight his exile.
My second conflict was with my own cat, Meredith, but I must admit it was partly my fault. She disappeared Monday night and, despite a frantic search of her usual hiding spots – under my bed, inside the living room couch — we didn’t see hide nor hair of her little gray self. We finally assumed that she was somewhere in a part of the basement where we don’t normally allow her to go. This part of the basement has a lot of crawl spaces which we just assume she never get to explore. Unfortunately, the door to that part of the house was left open by persons unknown...all right, I confess. It was me...and Meredith took advantage of my carelessness.
We called her name countless times, which every cat owner knows is an exercise in pointlessness. Cats refuse to come when they are called. Somehow it is beneath their dignity. Dogs do it, and lord knows that’s reason enough not to do it. Still, I will make this appeal to any cats reading this to please reconsider this very cruel game played on humans down through the centuries, namely hiding while your owners search and yell your name all over kingdom come. After all, we do feed you, water you, give you treats on demand, and even clean your #@&!% box for you. The least you can do is show some compassion when you see your owners slowly going insane from fretting about your whereabouts.
Neither Anne Marie nor I slept very well until we knew Meredith was safe, but that didn’t happen until 12:30a Tuesday morning. Anne Marie brought her up from the basement, her brother Steven licked her head like he missed her too, and we all retired for the night. Since then, Anne Marie and I have taken every opportunity to remind her that she was a bad girl and she should never do this again. Unfortunately, this is the second most pointless activity any cat owner can do, namely lay a guilt trip on a cat.
It simply can’t be done. You can say things to them like, “You know it would be very considerate and thoughtful of you to come out of hiding and present yourself when you know we’re looking for you,” but it goes right over their heads. At times like this, they’ll stare at you with wide eyes as if you’re the largest rodent they have ever seen and they haven’t figured out yet how to pounce on you. They won’t cock their heads, though. Dogs do that, and lord knows that’s reason enough not to do it.
So anyway, Meredith, you are hereby notified that you are grounded for the immediate future. I don’t know what this means exactly, but you can rest assure it is not as pointless as kicking a wasp out of a pool.
(Thank you for reading. Please keep your box clean at all times!)
After a few moments of cursing and splashing water on the wound, I went hunting for my assailant. I found him struggling in the water near the other side of the pool. My first impulse was to splash the water down on him and put him out of his misery, but then I realized that this would be wrong. After all, the wasp is still one of God’s creatures.
So I splashed the water around him so that he was carried over the top of the pool and onto the ground. At this point, I grabbed a foam tube floating nearby and, with a mental apology to God, tried to dispatch the little bastard by beating him to pieces with the tube. Unfortunately, he was either too nimble for me, or the foam tube is a very poor weapon for homicidal purposes. The last I saw of him he was flying away from the pool, a little wet but still very much alive. I resolved to banish all wasps from the pool for the remainder of the summer, and I don’t care if he hires a lawyer to fight his exile.
My second conflict was with my own cat, Meredith, but I must admit it was partly my fault. She disappeared Monday night and, despite a frantic search of her usual hiding spots – under my bed, inside the living room couch — we didn’t see hide nor hair of her little gray self. We finally assumed that she was somewhere in a part of the basement where we don’t normally allow her to go. This part of the basement has a lot of crawl spaces which we just assume she never get to explore. Unfortunately, the door to that part of the house was left open by persons unknown...all right, I confess. It was me...and Meredith took advantage of my carelessness.
We called her name countless times, which every cat owner knows is an exercise in pointlessness. Cats refuse to come when they are called. Somehow it is beneath their dignity. Dogs do it, and lord knows that’s reason enough not to do it. Still, I will make this appeal to any cats reading this to please reconsider this very cruel game played on humans down through the centuries, namely hiding while your owners search and yell your name all over kingdom come. After all, we do feed you, water you, give you treats on demand, and even clean your #@&!% box for you. The least you can do is show some compassion when you see your owners slowly going insane from fretting about your whereabouts.
Neither Anne Marie nor I slept very well until we knew Meredith was safe, but that didn’t happen until 12:30a Tuesday morning. Anne Marie brought her up from the basement, her brother Steven licked her head like he missed her too, and we all retired for the night. Since then, Anne Marie and I have taken every opportunity to remind her that she was a bad girl and she should never do this again. Unfortunately, this is the second most pointless activity any cat owner can do, namely lay a guilt trip on a cat.
It simply can’t be done. You can say things to them like, “You know it would be very considerate and thoughtful of you to come out of hiding and present yourself when you know we’re looking for you,” but it goes right over their heads. At times like this, they’ll stare at you with wide eyes as if you’re the largest rodent they have ever seen and they haven’t figured out yet how to pounce on you. They won’t cock their heads, though. Dogs do that, and lord knows that’s reason enough not to do it.
So anyway, Meredith, you are hereby notified that you are grounded for the immediate future. I don’t know what this means exactly, but you can rest assure it is not as pointless as kicking a wasp out of a pool.
(Thank you for reading. Please keep your box clean at all times!)
posted by todd gunther | 6:21 AM
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