Story 492: Cat Corraller

(Outside a house on a residential street, Homeowner is chatting with Neighbor while holding the front door ajar)

Neighbor: Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for “live-and-let-live,” but if that kid’s moped-thing comes roaring down the street at 2:00 in the morning one more time, well – you’re gonna see some serious finger-wagging coming out of me, let me tell ya.

Homeowner: (Nodding quickly) Sure, OK, thanks for the warning, I’ve just gotta go back – (Turns to go inside when a gray streak flies past both sets of human legs) Oooohhhh, shooooooooooot!!! (Lets the door close and starts running after the blur)

Neighbor: Heh, what was that?

Homeowner: Darn cat got out again – I thought Lil’ Terror was safe in the den for the two minutes I was out here!  (Claps hands at several shaking bushes)

Neighbor: Yeah, they escape anything, those mini-Houdinis

Homeowner: (Dives behind one of the bushes just as Lil’ Terror flees around the corner of the house; pops head up while spitting out leaves) You’re tellin’ me!  (Runs around to the side of the house) Sweetie-pie!  Come back here!

Neighbor: (Following the two around the lawn) Whelp, you’ll never be able catch creatures like that by chasing `em  - they’re much too fast and wily.

Homeowner: (Dives again, almost getting a whisker; Lil’ Terror zooms under another neighbor’s fence) Well, I don’t know what else to do; silly thing’s gonna keep on running and won’t be able to find the way back home, the dolt!

Neighbor: (Takes out a phone and makes a call) Leave it to me: I know someone perfect for the job....

(Within five minutes, a van pulls up to the front curb; the logo on the side reads “Cat Corraller: Professional Feline Herder.”  The uniformed driver emerges carrying a kit, a fishing rod, a carrier, and a butterfly net)

Cat Corraller: (To Neighbor, waiting by the street) You rang?

Neighbor: (As they walk to the side of the house) Yeah: the fur parent’s over there.  (Points to Homeowner who is up a tree “Pspspsps”-ing while leaning over the fence)

Cat Corraller: (To Homeowner while opening the kit) The target’s no longer on your property, then?

Homeowner: (Turns suddenly to Cat Corraller) Huh?  Oh, yeah, Lil’ Terror’s off in the neighbor’s yard, looking for… something that apparently can’t be found here.

Neighbor: No one’s home to open the gate, either – should we break it down?

Cat Corraller: No need.  (Pulls out a package of treats and sets up the butterfly net to receive; gesturing to the treats) These usually do the trick.

Homeowner: Oh right; mine are inside.

Cat Corraller: (Starts shaking the bag of treats loudly) Oh Kitty, what’s this I have in my hands?

Homeowner: (Still up in the tree, peers over the fence again) Yes!  Go to the treats, Lil’ Terror, go!

(A gray streak emerges from under the fence and barrels toward Cat Corraller)

Cat Corraller: Got ya, you little – (The gray streak snatches the bag out of Cat Corraller’s hand and zooms around the corner of the house) Ah.  We’ve got a slippery devil here.

Homeowner: (Climbs down the tree and joins the other two) What just happened?!

Cat Corraller: (Squints thoughtfully in the direction of the gray streak) That, is one who has transcended the evolutionary ladder and is able to outmaneuver interspecies apex opponents.  However – (Opens the kit to retrieve heavy-duty gloves) I do relish a challenge.

(The three humans slowly round the corner of the house and see the cat lying in the middle of the driveway, having ripped open the treat package and devouring the crunchies within)

Cat Corraller: (Whispers to the other two) Right – this is perfect.  We can triangulate the wee pain-in-the-patootie.  (Points to Homeowner) You: approach from the north.  (Points to Neighbor) You: approach from the south.  (Points to self) I: approach from the east.

Homeowner: But what if Lil’ Terror goes west?

Cat Corraller: Then you two go west, too!  Simple geometry!

(The three creep up on the snacking kitty; Lil’ Terror continues eating until the others are a foot away, then instantaneously abandons the bag to dash through the gap in their formation and disappear in a hedgerow as Homeowner and Neighbor dive and miss)

Cat Corraller: That was ineffective triangulation there, folks. 

Homeowner: (Wailing from the ground) We’re trying our best!

Neighbor: Yeah, and by all rights I shouldn’t even have to be doing any of this.

Cat Corraller: No cause to fret: we just need a new plan.

(An hour later, Lil’ Terror strolls back through the hedgerow, sniffs the place in the driveway where the treats are no longer, then strolls onto the empty front yard and stops to nibble on some grass; attention is caught by a twitching cloth sardine that is several feet away.  The cat, licking lips, slowly begins stalking the sardine, body low, ears back, and rear end wriggling.  When Lil’ Terror leaps to pounce, the sardine is snatched away and reeled in across the law toward the house.  The cat runs after the sardine on a fishing wire, which is pulled in through the house’s open front door.  Lil’ Terror runs inside, straight into the arms of Homeowner as Neighbor slams the door shut from the outside.  In the living room, Cat Corraller finishes reeling in the sardine as Homeowner hugs the cat tightly)

Homeowner: Oh you silly, silly baby!  You gave me quite a scare there!

Cat Corraller: (Packing up gear) Aye, they do that to ye.  Here.  (Hands over the cloth sardine to Homeowner; Lil’ Terror starts gnawing it) On the house.  It’s got catnip inside, so it may come in handy for potential future round-ups.

Homeowner: Thank you so much, you’re a life-saver!

Cat Corraller: All in a day’s work.  Here’s also my bill.  (Hands over a large invoice) I took the liberty of writing this up as we lay in ambush.

Homeowner: Oh, right.  (Takes the paper while still holding the cat and scans the line items) This is quite a bit.

Cat Corraller: It was quite a bit of effort.

Homeowner: (Shakes head decisively) No matter – (To Lil’ Terror, now drooling over the sardine) worth every penny, aren’t you, sweetums?  (Back to Cat Corraller) You take a credit card?

Cat Corraller: I prefer cash.

Neighbor: (Entering through the side door) Whew!  That was certainly an exciting afternoon, but I sure am glad it’s all over now!  (A gray streak goes past Neighbor’s legs just before the door closes.  All three stare at the spot for several moments)

Homeowner: (With now-empty arms, hands the invoice back to Cat Corraller) You may want to add a few lines to this.

Cat Corraller: To be expected - `tis the nature of the business.

Story 405: Observations From the Cat Left at Home

My family left me today.

My family actually leave me every day, but this is one of those times I could tell they won’t be back by night.  Or the next day.  Or the – I have no idea what comes after that.

It’s kind of peaceful here now, tranquil, just the way I like it; I can finally do what I want for a change, and not be woken up 15 times mid-exhausting-sleep for an unwanted cuddle.

Still: the lack of diversion is a bit of a drag.  How many times can I kill the scores of fake prey they leave scattered around the place, I ask you?  At least when they summon the flying point of light, it’s somewhat of a challenge for my impressive tracking skills.

The smallest member of the family also keeps things interesting: certainly no telling what that one’s going to do next.

The most pressing issue at the moment, though, is the food situation.  I am embarrassingly dependent upon the giants to supply my daily fuel, so every time they get it into their huge heads to take off to parts unknown, I’m left behind with an uncertain future: if I eat everything in the bowl and no one is there to refill it, is the next step starvation?  Constant conservation is the only way to deal with this, and I have learned to live with the everlasting anxiety.

What’s that?  The front door unlocking?  Quick, off the bed before they catch you there with a “No, no, no!” – gracefully sprint down the hall – perhaps the family came back early –

Oh no.

It’s the other one.

This giant smells like Alpha (I refuse on principle to call her “Mommy” despite her addressing herself as such) so I know she’s from the same litter, and she has encroached on this territory multiple times before.

It’s too late to hide under a bed or in a closet – the intruder has spotted me.

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, baaaaaaabyyyyyy!!!!!!”

Ugh.

“How are you?!”  I am scooped up into amateur arms – clearly, this one has not held one of my kind properly, ever.  “Have you been a good little furball?”

Ew.  And of course I’ve been what you arrogantly designate “good,” you imbecile – I don’t have to answer to you!

I’m carried as if I were a helpless kitten into the kitchen; only my disciplined forbearance in this treatment prevents a scene.  “Have you been watching the house while everyone’s gone?  Making sure no one sneaks in, heh-heh-heh?”

My patrols are completed regularly, thank you very much – and isn’t “watching the house” technically your job?!

I finally am released onto the floor, and the giant takes her sweet time getting my food in order.  Never mind that I have been patiently waiting eons past the scheduled delivery time.  Sure, there are plenty of the crunchy pebbles available all day, but refer to my earlier treatise on food conservation; plus, I’ve suffered enough – I want the good stuff.

Blast, I forgot about this part: lately I’d been feeling a little… off, if you will, and after a torture session where Alpha kidnapped me out of the house and allowed some stranger who smelled mainly of DOG to mishandle me terribly, now at every meal I am placed in a bodylock and a tube is shoved into my mouth with some horrific liquid forced down my throat.  I have no choice but to swallow the disgusting concoction under heavy protest and no small amount of humiliation.  After an unfathomable amount of time performing this new, horrendous ritual, I have been feeling a slight improvement from my prior state: I fail to see the connection.

Now the intruder giant upends a bottle, sticks the tube into the bottom for a few seconds, then hugs me in a weak semblance of the hold Alpha uses.  I stretch my patience to the utmost limits in keep still for this one to get her act together, but when she starts trying (emphasis on that last word) to get the tube into my mouth, the uncertainty and inexperience in her conduct push me past my breaking point, instinct takes over, and away I flail: I regret nothing.

“There, there – ” a condescending pat on the head after the damage is done – “such a good kitty.”

If me not rightfully biting your nose after such unprofessional behavior constitutes as being “good,” then I am the best who ever lived – your pathetic affirmation is unnecessary and undesired.

After another indignity in my face being wiped with a damp cloth – I can groom myself, you know, and much better than this fumbling approximation – the goods are finally delivered and the chicken-like soft mass appears in my dish.

“What an appetite!  You must be hungry!”

Well of course I’m – !  When one is not given vital sustenance until ages after their body is accustomed to receiving it, then one, logically, is hungry.  You can stop talking now.

The intruder disappears somewhere while I embrace the meal – my waste depository better be emptied by the time I get there, is all I’m saying – and my subsequent bath is rudely interrupted because she’s decided she’s been here long enough and the supposed burden of my care can now wait until tomorrow to resume.

A few more ingratiating rubs to my ears, chin, back, mmmmmm....

“Bye-bye, baby!  Watch the house!”

For the love of –

The door is slammed and locked.

The lone outside light does nothing for the increasingly darkening interior.  Fine by me: the giants blast way too much fake sun in here anyway.  It’s a relief that my eyes don’t have to adjust to the incessant glare for the nonce.

Time for a brief nap, then evening patrol, a little snack, nap, overnight patrol, do battle with that cricket in the corner again, a little snack, dawn patrol, nap, and –

The door unlocks and bursts open: “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, baaaaaaabyyyyyy!!!!!!  Did you watch the house?!”

Sigh.  My life is an unending trial.

When my family finally bestir themselves to return home I’m certainly going to give them an earful, right before we curl up on the couch together so they can watch the glowing noisy screen and we all fall into a blissful slumber.

Oh yes, they will pay for this dearly.

Story 390: Living With The Giant Ball of Fur

 My life is ruled by The Giant Ball of Fur.

It is there when I wake in the morning.

It is there when I sleep at night.

The very air is saturated with it – I believe a fine layer coats the inside of my lungs.

Every article of clothing I own bears its traces.

On top of the dust, every piece of furniture in my home is covered with it.

The Giant Ball of Fur consumes my life.

It has even consumed the bathtub.

At 3:00 in the morning, The Giant Ball of Fur noisily swarms the bedroom, destroying the blankets and invading my face.

After vacuuming and sweeping the floors for hours, The Giant Ball of Fur reclaims its territory with a vengeance.

I express my displeasure; The Giant Ball of Fur rolls on its merry way, unaffected by the destruction in its wake.

After a rough day, The Giant Ball of Fur surges onto my lap and smothers me with affection.

There is no resistance – The Giant Ball of Fur has won.

Story 241: Hoping for a Home

         Friend 1: I’m telling you, pretty much all of them are harmless.  Sometimes a little over-enthusiastic, but harmless.

            Friend 2: OK, I guess – this is my first time doing this, so I’m a little nervous.

            Friend 1: Just stick by me and follow my lead.  Ooh, here’s one coming right for you, don’t be shy!

            Friend 2: I – I – I just can’t, I’m sorry!

            Friend 1: It’s OK, I’ll handle this one.

            Visitor 1: Aren’t you a pretty kitty, yes you are!  (Holds out hand)

            Friend 1: (Sniffs fingers) Hm, not a serious customer.

            Friend 2: (Hanging back in a corner) How can you tell?

          Friend 1: I smell cat all over her – doubtful she’d bring a stranger into the fold, especially living with one that old.  Still, she’s a friend of our kind.  (Rubs head against Visitor 1’s hand)

            Visitor 1: Aw, look, she likes me!

            Visitor 2: Don’t even think about bringing her home, young lady.

            (Friend 1 looks knowingly at Friend 2 while purring enthusiastically; Visitor 1 moves on)

            Friend 1: (Trots over to Friend 2 and bats around a toy mouse) See?  Some of them just want to cuddle and then grab a snack in the café, but the more you circulate around here the better your chances one will take you home.

            Friend 2: (Jumps to a high ledge on the wall and settles down) I don’t know, what if we seem to hit it off but then it turns out we’re incompatible?  I miss my old home, and at least here I know everybody.

            Friend 1: Not for long, pal – none of us plan on staying here long-term.  (There is activity on the other side of the room) Case in point: looks like McFluffy’s got herself a new family.  Way to go, McFluff!

            Friend 2: Aw, and I liked her – we bonded because her human had gotten sick, too.  At least I still have you.

            Friend 1: (Rubbing against Visitor 3’s legs) Don’t count on it: I intend to be whisked away to my new forever home by someone halfway decent within the next few weeks if I have to lie to do it.

            Friend 2: What, by pretending to be a lap cat or something?

            Friend 1: If that’s what it takes.  Come on down, you’ll never get adopted if you stay up there!

           Friend 2: Oh, all right.  (Leaps down to the floor and is immediately approached by Visitor 3, abandoning Friend 1 in mid-rub)

            Friend 1: Hey!  Tease.

            Visitor 3: Hi there, little guy.  (Holds out hand, knuckles first)

            Friend 2: Here goes.  (Sniffs) Smells all right.

            Friend 1: Go on, introduce yourself.

           Friend 2: Oh boy.  (Rubs head against Visitor 3’s hand, then lightly nips) Sorry, I’m sorry!  I don’t know what came over me!

            Visitor 3: (Laughs) Ooh, feisty!  I can take a hint.  (Moves on)

            Friend 2: Aw, I ruined it!  (Flops onto a cat bed and sighs)

           Friend 1: (Scratching a post) Don’t beat yourself up over it; happens to the best of us, that’s why they sign a waiver.  Try taking a nap in the condo by the front window – the humans’ll see you first as they come in and maybe they’ll look for you later.

           Friend 2: I don’t know, that feels self-exploitative.  (Looks around) Maybe I should go meet that family who just walked in; they seem nice.

            Friend 1: (Stretched out on the floor, being given a belly rub) Go get `em, tiger!

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