This diary starts on a rainy, autumn night in the bedroom of a typical southern home where only the cat is awake… Always watching.
12:34 am – The large one is stirring. He has been getting up every night. There is a potential that he is becoming nocturnal. After following him to observe his movements, I have observed that he goes to the human litter box. But every night? Why can’t he hold it – even the offspring do that? Does the adult male regress to infantile state?
12:48 am – After stirring, he finally rises. I’ve decided to investigate by following him into the small water closet.
12:55 am – It has been several minutes. He may or may not be asleep again in a seated position. I have taken up a surveillance position behind him.
12:58 am – Surprisingly, he got up very quickly and pushed the splash lever. I must have been cat-napping and now the door is closed. I do not like doors. I have committed a tactical error – I am stuck in the small water closet.
1:14 am – I still do not like being stuck in the small water closet.
1:22 am – I have swept my paw under the door 87 times and still cannot fit my head underneath. The fat canine changed positions but no one with thumbs has noticed. This is discouraging.
1:46 am – I have previously noted that both the male and female stand on the small metal platform daily – an action that makes them visibly sad. I am going to attempt this and monitor myself for mood change. The gray rectangle on the platform changed to 7.2. I do not know what this means but I feel no sadness.
2:11 am – I have run laps in the room and knocked over the trash receptacle. It was mocking me.
3:15 am – I scratched at the door until I saw the belt of the female’s robe dangle. I couldn’t resist playing with it. Then it fell on me. At least now I have a comfortable place to lay.
3:28 am – I repeatedly meowed loud enough that they should have heard me. They are definitely not becoming nocturnal.
3:38 am – I feel dehydrated. There is water, but it is inside the human litter box. I’m dubious.
4:23 am – I must drink. The surface is very slippery. I am wet now. And still thirsty.
5:04 am – I stood on the metal platform again. The gray rectangle says 7.1. I seem to be melting. I now understand why this thing makes the humans sad.
5:35 am – I think I hear stirring outside, but the snorting against the door tells me it must be the fat canine. He has no thumbs to work the knob and couldn’t figure it out if he did. Idiot.
7:10 am – The door opens. It is the male. I feel so happy to be free that I want to rub his leg, but I must shun him for at least two hours for his treachery. I run.
7:13 am – He put down food for me. Unshun…. Leg… Purrrrr…
(I’m sorry, Liza.)
15 thoughts on “The Curious Incident of the Cat at Night”
Wonderful post! Purrs, Quicksilver et al
Hmmm. That picture is not exactly Liza’s best side. What happened to the sweet little fur ball? 😄 BTW, the little grey platform gradually becomes a source of clinical depression and you’ll need Prozac. I speak from experience. Do not let the platform’s siren song lure you into decreasing your daily intake of doughnuts, et. al. Given the choice…throw the platform as hard as you can into the trash receptacle which is carried away by the big truck with the curious crunching mechanism. Stay strong! I’ll be praying for you as youn conquer this evil device.
she is actually yawning. It just looks like an evil expression. Yes, the platforms can be quite terrible – especially around the holidays and after vacations.
You have a talent for connecting to something beautiful. Not always of laughter, but always of beauty. This one attacked my funny bone without respite! My funny bone might not be beautiful but innocent laughter is! What a gift to be given – thank you! 🙂 🙂 🙂
Thanks Paul. Sorry for the attack – not really.
That could be my cat, as well! Love it!
I find her to be somewhat condescending. But she is a cat!
‘Zackly…they are our “arch” allies.
Oh. That’s good.
(Couldn’t help myself)
so funny and wonderful that your cat can write !