A guest column by a well-traveled cat
Hello. You don't know me. I'm The-Guy-Who-Writes-This-Column's cat. He thinks I'm downstairs sleeping on the nice warm Sir Nautilus The Water Heater, but I'm not. My name is Icky, and I just got back from a trip outdoors.
I made my break for it out the new screen door, which doesn't have a very strong spring. I left last Sunday night, and came back last night, Thursday. I don't think I've slept much. There's a lot to see.
And to eat. Although to be truthful, if you've had one mouse, you've had them all. They all taste pretty much the same. I thought they'd be better. Isn't that the way it often is? That mouse on the outside looks better than it is.
Looking out through the window, trying to convince one to come in and live in a nice warm house, they look so tasty. They say they don't trust me, but once in a while I find a stupid one who'll come in. I like to let them run around for a while before I safari their butt.
The first couple of mice I found outside were pretty smart, and got away from me while I was inviting them for supper, but the next few stayed.
I was outside so long because time got away from me. Some of that is Brigette's fault. She's a three-color who lives the next farm over, but visits here. A girl needs a girl friend, and we became real close while I was outside.
She first thought I was a push-over, because most house cats don't have claws. After that first dancing and singing lesson with her, she realized that wasn't the case, and we became friends.
"Here," she said to me that first night, "try some of this," and she led me over behind the machine shed to a small patch of a minty-smelling plant. She began to eat, and I joined her. Next thing you know, I hadn't eaten or slept in three days.
Wow! I was so stoned! I had no idea that fresh catnip was so much better than the seeds and stems that The Guy sometimes brought to me. Sure, I ate some of that dry as it was and rolled around in it and acted like I was grateful, but I'm not stupid. Mama taught me how to appear grateful just enough of the time that The Long Legged Ones feel good about themselves.
We were so high. Brigette and I climbed trees, explored dark places behind stuff, snuck up on one another and fake-pounced, and just had a great time. I tried to get her to come inside with me but she wouldn't. "It's so dull in there," she said, as she chewed off another plant and fell over. I think she's addicted. Maybe she's right. "Look," I told her, "I'll show you how to psych out The Guy. It's a lot of fun." It is, too.
These Long Legged Ones aren't very smart. I'll give you one example: You know how I rub up against their pant legs? They think that's because I like them, while in fact, I'm leaving cat germs all over them. I don't know what they are, but they don't smell very nice. Even better, if another cat smells them, I get extra credit when cats get together and have their annual awards banquet. Last year I got a trophy that said: "For Icky, a champion disease spreader."
So, anyway, I'm back in the house, making do with what little fun things there are around here. Last night, the first night back in, I snuck up while he was sleeping and knocked his bedside lamp over on him. You should have seen him. He jumped up like the roof was falling in. Brigette should have seen that one. He hasn't found it yet, but the alarm clock fell over and the battery came loose, so he'll be late for work tomorrow. I have to be careful not to pull all this stuff at once now that I'm back in. He's pretty bright, so I have to spread the fun out. Later, I'll gack on the stairs, and watch him dance around one-footed when he steps in it.
I did however go right to the kitty litter box and scratch around in it and then hang my butt over the edge and pee all over the floor. That always gets him. Get me a bigger box, why don't you, and while you're at it, clean it once in a while. If you had to go in something that messy, I'll bet you'd complain, too.
Well, I have to go. Brigette is outside with a mouse she has convinced to come in and see the mousey amusement park.
Dear mousey, it'll be amusing, that's for sure.