Cat Tales 10
Having two cats is like having two children in that you must neve r, ever bring home something for one without buying the exact same thing for the other. Unf ortunately, our cats are a bit on the spoiled side (no idea how that happene d). The upshot is, even when we bring home something that is not for the m, but rathe r for us, the cats still claim ownership.
For example, we brought home a new throw rug for the kitche n floor. Nothing fancy, just a basic woven throw with tassels on the ends. We laid it on the floor. “What do you think?” I asked my husband. “Looks good,” he said. “I—” A rumbling, rushing sound filled the air as two cats careened around the corne r. Eyes bulging , ears laid flat, feet racing, they were neck and neck on the home stretch. The n, in a surprise move, the kitten took a Herculean leap, passing the cat, and was the first to land victoriously on the new rug. Mrrowr! she screeched, spread-eagled across the fabric. Rowr-rrrr! the cat yelped, looking to us as if for a judge’s call. She screeched to a halt at the edge of the rug as if an invisible barrier protecte d it.
The kitten smirked as she pranced around the new rug.
“Well, it was nice for the thirty seconds we could call it ours,” said my husband. “I’m going to watch TV.” I glared at his retreating back. Yet again, I was left to single -parent the situation. Fortunately, I had the deft touch. “You share,” I told the kitte n. “Be a good kitty. Sha re.” The kitten’s idea of sharing was to settle into the middle of the rug and begin cleaning her private parts. I decided parenting was overrated and joine d my husband in front of the TV.
The kitten made he rself at home, not movi ng for the next two hours. Our entering the kitchen didn’ t dete r her in the least, and she went so far as to let us step over and around her as we fumbled through trying to cook and set the table.
My husband made the mistake of standing on the rug as he stirred something at the stove. A rumble emanated f rom deep in the kitten’s throat.
“I’d move if I were you,” I told hi m. “Why?” he asked. The kitten walked ove r and glared at the portion of his shoe on the mat. “You’ re on some body’s turf,” I said. He looked down at the scowling kitten. “I pay the mortgage,” he said. “If I want to stand on my new carpet, in my kitchen, no te n-pound cat is going to stop me.” I shrugged and went back to rinsing off lettuce.
The kitten nudged his ankle with her head. When subtlety didn’t work, she went for an all-out head-butt. “Hey, cut that out,” said my husband. The kitten whipped out her claws and targeted his sock, which unfortunately had his foot in it at the time. “Ow! Hey! Ow!” He hopped off the rug. “Us, zero. Cats, 391,” I said. My husband glared at me. The cat moped in the doorway, watching the kitten nap on the rug. But older and somewhat wiser, she was merely biding her time. Per routine, I fed the cats at five o’clock. The cat sashayed over and planted he rself in front of the kitte n’s dish. The kitten sat up, alarmed. The cat smiled and then sank her head deep into the kitten’s food.
Rowr, rowr, psst! yelled the kitte n. My husband and I came into the kitche n. The kitten stared accusingly at the cat. Mrow, mow, mow!
“Well, go get your food then,” I said. The cat humme d as she paroled the peri mete r of the rug. The kitten bit he r lip and lay down on the mat. The cat wasn’t through. She started splashing around in the wate r dish. Hear the water? When is the last time you went to the bathroom? Ho, hum. Splash, splash. I love playing in the runny water.
The kitten crossed her legs. She looked worried. Splish-splash. Splish-splash. Oh, how I love the runny, full, wet, drippy water. The kitte n turned a deep shade of purple as she held her breath. Unable to bear it any longer, she tore off the carpet toward the litter box. Doing her business in record ti me, she raced back to the mat, coming to a dismayed stop at the edge.
The cat squatted at the corner of the rug, flipping a tassel back and forth. Do you mind? her expression seemed to ask the kitten. I’m getting ready for bed. If you could just go in the other room so as not to disturb me, that would be lovely. Cheers.
By then, I was fed up. It was impossible to get anything done in the kitche n with terri torial cats nipping at my heels and with both cats toying alternatively with starvation and kidney implosion so as not to lose their claim on the rug to the othe r. “We have to take action,” I told my husband. He put down the ne wspaper and sighed. “You’re right. We’ve spoiled the m. But with ha rd work and commitment on our part, I’m sure we can teach them to do bette r. I stared at him. “What are you talking about?” He stared back. “Weren’t you going to lecture me that we nee d to find ne w ways of reward and discipline for the cats so as to create a fairer, more ha rmonious environme nt in which we can all learn a lesson about love and sharing?"
"What, are you on drugs?” I asked. “No. I was going to suggest we go buy two small, crappy rugs for the hall and let the m duke it out the re.” He thought for a moment. “Okay, that’s good too. It’s really too bad we don’ t have kids. We’d make great parents.”