Scarlett the Cat here. I know it’s been a while since I’ve submitted a column. Not much exciting has been going on and, to make it worse, we are in the midst of the “Dog Days of Summer.” I have to be on my toes, all 20 of them, just in case a dog wanders in.
I am not sure why they call this stretch the dog days but I’m guessing it’s not a compliment. The creatures don’t even know how to take control of their boarders and don’t get me started on their personal hygiene habits. They even have to have humans bathe them! Such a simple process, I do it for most of my waking hours.
I was energized to write this piece though by a recent and revolting development here on Stanley Avenue. This matter calls for redress, or at least a loud protest. I used to watch Seinfeld reruns while the boarder was at the office, and my favorite part of that show was the “Airing of Grievances.” Who to better understand grievances and the need to express them openly than a cat, particularly a sharp and articulate tortoiseshell like me? We are known for our acerbic wit.
Anyway, back to the disturbing situation that arose recently in my generally tranquil home. The boarder took a trip and apparently stayed at the house of someone who had a very young yellow kitten in residence. First, I need to put it out there that I have nothing against yellow cats. They certainly can brighten up a room better than a grey or white tabby. I also understand that the first cat the boarder ever had in charge of his household was a yellow/orange cat named “Wally.” I asked the boarder if he was a good cat and he said Wally was a “she.” A case of mistaken identity, I guess. I even have some yellow/orange in me, probably need identity,estry.com to figure that out.
So, the boarder comes back from this trip all enthused with the notion that I need a housemate, specifically, a darn kitten, a newbie, a rookie, a novice. He says it will be great fun having an energetic youngster around for me to play with, to train, to teach the “cat ways.” Fun, my hindquarters! When I found the boarder, I had four of the darn things with me, clinging and following me everywhere. It was tiring and stressful. Those days are behind me.
I gave my plan as to how to dissuade the boarder from this folly some thought, however. I try not to be totally dismissive of his feelings, after all he is the one who feeds me. I owe him some respect at least. So, I decided to try a compromise.
I am now in training. It’s been about 10 years since I was in my prime, but those jungle instincts never quite leave you. I am now running up and down the steps for no reason and destroying what little good furniture we have left and even chasing that stupid red dot from time to time (what a bore, I learned early on that there’s nothing there when you catch it). I jump on the boarder’s leg when he walks by and bite him, although between my arthritis and weakening gums I try to be careful.
I am also trying to get by on less sleep when the boarder is home (I am cutting back to 16-18 hours per day), and I even am trying to find some of those inane toys that I naively used to swat around and play with back in the day. I found some under couches and cupboards and knocked them into the hallway, and I pounce on them when the boarder is looking.
I hope my plan works and satisfies the dimwitted guy I share my house with. These efforts on my part should quell his appetite for a kitten and hopefully this phase will pass. His attention span is about like that of a lightning bug, so I am optimistic.
And it could be worse. He could have decided he wanted to bring home a dog. I don’t think I can pull that off. I don’t do dumb well.
