Funny, I Don’t Recall Eating That: or How to Get a Good Workout While Eating

    Being sneaky is not easy. It takes a lot of training and practice to become the master of sneakiness. Some have a natural talent and can adapt to the art fast, others like me have squeaky shoes with no hopes of ever pulling off a fast one. A true master can pull off a dastardly deed and be out of the crime zone before the poor schmuck even knows he's been victimized. Sometimes, the master of sneakiness is so good, the squeaky shoes sit there in shock and awe, admiring the handy work so much it's hard to get mad at the fact we just got duped.


    It's quite difficult to eat a meal at my house. The workout you get from protecting your dinner on multiple fronts is downright exhausting. Fork in one hand, knife in the other and leg splayed straight out with a foot in the cats' face all the while saying "my food, no, no, you are not getting any, no". The response I get back, a sad muffled meow emanating from the bottom of my foot, followed by the big round sad cow eyes and the sucking in of the furry little cheeks as if the overweight cretin is food deprived. I sit there and stare at the sad pathetic picture of a cat that is so lazy, he actually rolls down the stairs half the time.

    As I deal with the overweight food deprived cretin, the thin but well fed 7 pound contortionist slides in behind me, attempting to push me off my seat. I quickly stuff my cheeks full of food in the few chances I get. With a paw pushing in my back and my cheeks stuffed like a hamster I berate the thin but well fed 7 pound contortionist while holding back the overweight food deprived cretin with my foot. Tiny bits of food splay from my foaming mouth as I fight back with stinging words of threats they know I'll never keep. The paw pushes harder, the eyes grow wider. I put the fork and knife down and turn around to remove the ever pushing paw out of my back and give him the "give it up, you're not getting any" look while still holding back the cretin with my foot.


    As I turn back to my meal, I see ninja kitty flying up the stairs four at a time. Cretin and Contortionist take off after her presumably to see what the ruckus is all about. Joy overcomes me. I rub my hands together, take a deep breath and let it all out. A smile forms on my hamster cheeked face as I think aloud, "into the mouth and over the tongue, look at stomach, here it…" I glance down and notice my juicy, tender leg and thigh combo piece is missing. I stare at the grease smudged spot on my plate and think to myself, funny, I don't recall eating that. Did I shove that in my mouth during one of my frantic get as much food in as possible moments? Why am I still famished?

   The reality of the moment flooded me like gravy on mashed potatoes. I ran up the stairs like a starving dog drooling for lost food. As I reach the top, holding my chest and gasping for air, all I could do was stare at the horrifying scene played out in front of me. My chicken, all gnarled and chewed, was on the floor divvied up three ways.


Yes, I was played. The pure talent they showed in this coup d'état demanded respect. How could I be mad? Being sneaky is not easy. So, with that, I picked up the chicken and headed back down the stairs, the cat parade closely following. I opened the back door and threw the chicken out. Mad? No, but if I can't have it, no one can.

Yes Virginia, The Cat Can Lock You Out of the House (revised)

    Introduction


    Sometimes, something happens so bizarre, so out there, that you think no one would ever believe you. Such a thing happened to me in August 2009. In fact, the incident is what inspired me to pick up writing again after two decades. I hastily created a blog site and named it aptly "Stories From an Innocent Owner of Mad Cats". In my excitement of this new site, I wrote "Yes Virginia, The Cat Can Lock You Out of the House" and posted it on  Aug 10. I sped through the story in a rush to get it posted and it never got the treatment it deserved, so I have rewritten it and reposted it in hopes it gets the attention it deserved.
     From three months ago today, I give you the story that started it all...


Yes Virginia, The Cat Can lock You Out of the House!


    Everyday we go about our lives doing our daily rituals. Somewhere during those rituals we wind up doing something stupid. Usually we take the easy way out and blame it on ignorance. "No one told me", "who would of thought" and "officer, I had no idea the speed limit wasn't 110". Most of the time we secretly know better, we just thought for one small fragment of time, we could get away with it. Pets are the same way. I'm pretty sure every time I have had guest over, the cat knew what he was doing when he plopped down in front of everyone and started licking himself inappropriately. I'm also convinced the guest standing next to a child who exclaimed "wish I could do that" knew better also.


    One August morning I awoke from a rare good night's sleep. I got up, did my usual morning routine, checked the cat food, checked the water bowl and cleaned the Almond Roca out of the cat box. Being busy the last couple of days and not home a lot, the cats were feeling a little ignored so I played with them for a short bit giving them the attention they were so craving before heading down the stairs to make coffee.


    With coffee in hand I opened the sliding glass patio door about a foot and slid outside to enjoy some early morning summer sun. As I sat down in the white plastic chair and propped my feet up on the cheap patio table, I heard my neighbor say good morning to me from the other side of the fence. I asked how she was doing and we chit chatted for a few minutes before she went back in to her place. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone to see what time it was. I was running behind and was going to be late for work if I didn't hurry. As I stood up I heard the familiar sound of a seven pound cat jump onto the patio screen door. Turning around, I discovered my flame pt. Siamese, Fuego, plastered to the screen door about 6 feet up.


    As I reached out to open the screen door with the cat on it, I realized I had only opened the patio door about a foot. Fuego was on the screen right next to the edge of the patio door. His feet blocking me from opening the screen door, I sternly asked for him to get down. He stared blankly back. "Come on, get down", I said in my I'm not kidding anymore voice. He stared blankly back. "I'll give you a treat", emphasizes the word treat. He stared blankly back. Back and forth I went, alternating between telling him I was going to kick his fuzzy butt to I'll scratch your belly.


    Finally, he started to break and I could see him crane his head back and forth looking for that perfect spot to flop down at. He eyed a particular safe landing area and started to tense up ready for the leap of faith. "Good kitty!" I cheered, and with that, his brother Toby came running over and sat his big behind down right where Fuego was going to crash land. I looked back up to the seven pounds of fur still stuck to the screen, my eyes wide with horror. He stared blankly back.


    With cell phone in hand, I contemplated calling work to tell them I am going to be late but decide against it. I was quite sure telling them my cat locked me out of the house is the equivalent to telling your teacher the dog ate your homework. Eventually, Toby got bored and went to explore some other part of the house and Fuego was able to jump down. I felt lucky because I'm positive Fuego could have stayed up there for hours.


    I made it to work on time without having to utter the words "Officer, I had no idea the speed limit wasn't 110".


    After a long day at work, I came home to find everyone waiting for me at the front door like a pack of dogs. I ignored them all. I finished the day sitting on the couch watching some T.V., still a little miffed. Fuego came sneaking up from the side of the couch, jumped up and crawled into my lap. He looked up at me, smiled and started purring. I stared blankly back. He purred louder. "That was stupid" I tell him as I feel the corners of my mouth slowly inching up.


    I am sure he knew what he was doing when he jumped on the screen. I am also sure Toby knew what he was doing when he sat down in the only safe landing area for Fuego. There not stupid cats but for one small fragment of time, they knew they could get away with it.



To all of my followers, Thank you

Are You Insane?!

    Through out our lives we pass by many people. We pass each other at work, in the grocery store, in our own neighborhood. Some we stop and talk to and others we pass up. Some we downright run away from. In a split second we make a decision based on their looks, the way they walk, their mannerism. We know nothing about them yet we make our choice. We don't do this with anything else; we don't choose our cars, our homes or even the clothes that we are wearing that fast. First impressions can make or break a great thing in our lives.

    Way too soon after a special pet passed away, I was handed a piece of paper. On this piece of paper where two pictures of two flame pt. Siamese kittens at the local animal shelter. The two kittens, brothers, were scrunched up, eyes wide and looked ready to attack or run from the camera man. They looked mean and grungy. I wasn't in the mood for more animals at the time. I declined. After hours and hours of debate I was talked into "at least going to look".


    At the shelter we looked at the dogs, rabbits, ducks and finally the cat house. The cat house had rows and rows of cages filled with cute, lovable little kittens and cats, any of which would make a great pet. I was directed to two cages off in the corner. In the first cage was the first flame pt. Siamese that was in the picture and in the second cage was his brother. There they were, both of them, hunched in the back and eyes wide. I stuck my fingers up to the bars of the first cage and was awarded with ears pulled back and a hiss. I stuck my fingers up to the bars of the second cage and was awarded with the same thing. Yep, they were brothers alright.


    There is a little glass room at the end of the cat house that you can have an animal taken to interact with. I declined. I don't want a mean grungy cat. We debate again. I lose. As the shelter employee is taking the first cat to the room, she remarks that if the cat bites or scratches us, it will be put down immediately. I comment on how nice her big leather gloves are she is wearing. We get to the room and she places the kitten on a chair and leaves. At one end of the room is a little kitten sitting on a chair with it ears pulled back and all hunched up looking ready to eat me, at the other end are two grown people afraid of a little kitten. Worried that it will be put down if it scratches us I say it's time to leave. The reply I got back was "let's get them". Are you INSANE?! I think to myself, except the words actually came out of my mouth. I look over and I see I'm getting the stink eye and it's not from the kitten. We debate yet once more. I only half loose, as we decide to just take one of the brothers.


    After the paperwork is done we are told they will call in about two days for us to pick up the kitten. Two days go by and we are off to the shelter. Sitting in the waiting area a lady comes out with an animal box in her hands and a horrible screeching sound emitting from it. The box hissed and growled at me the whole way home.


    When we got home, I sat the box in the middle of the living room. There it sat making the meanest noises I've heard in a long time. "Ready" I asked. I sat on the couch with the box on the floor facing away from me and opened the lid. Out sprang this mad kitten that ran around the coffee table two or three times, stopped, looked up at me, and jumped in my lap. He purred. It was the craziest thing I have ever seen.


    Two days later we went and picked up his brother. Worried that lightning wasn't going to strike twice I sat down on the couch in our living room again with another box growling at me. I faced the box away from me so as not to be attacked when the brother was released. I opened the new box. Out sprang the second mad kitten who ran around the coffee table two or three times, sniffed his brother's butt, looked up at me and jumped on the couch right next to me and fell asleep. My jaw fell. We named them Fuego and Toby and as I write this it's been two years of pure entertainment and love.


    First impressions and quick decisions are not always a good thing. Sometimes, it's important to get to know someone. I don't know why Fuego and Toby were like the way they were at the shelter, bad day maybe. We all have those. I think about all the things I would have missed out on had I not gotten to know these two cats. Imagine all the people we passed up throughout our lives and never said hello to because we didn't like their clothes or their ears were pulled back and their eyes wide. Could they be a Fuego or a Toby? Next time you pass up someone, ask yourself, did you just pass up someone who could have become your greatest friend?


    

Yes Virginia, The Cat CAN Lock You Out of the House

The rule of thumb is, I feed you, pet you, play with you and buy you new toys, you do not lock me out of the house. It is an easy concept to grasp for most people. So why is it so difficult for cats to understand? They're not stupid by any means. Just think of all the times you had guests over. The cat comes strutting into the middle of the room, looks around, makes eye contact with everyone then plops down and starts licking himself inappropriately. Maximum embarrassment with little effort. Brilliant! No, they're not stupid. They know exactly what they are doing.



A couple of days ago I awoke from a good night of sleep. Nice and rested. I do my normal routine. I put food in the bowl, get fresh water and clean the almond Rocha out of the box. I make sure each one of the three cats who own me are petted and played with then head down the stairs to make some coffee.



With coffee in hand, I slide open the patio door and head out to the patio in the backyard. I shut the sliding screen door and begin enjoying a beautiful California summer morning. As I finish my coffee, I hear a familiar sound. Claws on a screen. I turn around and there is Fuego about six feet up plastered to the screen. I holler for him to get down but all I got back was the "what, me?" face. If you own a cat, you know what I'm talking about. Unfortunately for me he's not only on the screen door but he's right next to the edge of the sliding glass door so I cannot slide the screen open. After a few minutes of me alternating between pleading nicely and demanding sternly that he get down and let me in, he finely starts to break. I see him start looking for a spot to jump down to. He spots one. Just as he is ready to submit and let me in, his brother, Two Ton Toby, comes sauntering up and plops down in the only place he has to jump down. Nice. It's been about 10 minutes already and I have to get ready for work. My cell phone is in my pocket and I contemplate calling work and telling them I am going to be late because my cat locked me out of the house. I decide against. I am pretty sure that is equivalent to "my dog ate my homework".



Eventually, Toby decided to go explore some other part of the house and Fuego was able to jump down and let me in.



After a long day at work I come to find everyone one waiting for me at the front door. I ignore them all. I finish up my day sitting on the couch watching some TV, Still a little miffed. Fuego comes sneaking up from the side and plops down right on my lap. He looks up at me, smiles and starts purring. I'm done for. No, cats are not stupid and yes Virginia, the cat CAN lock you out of the house.