My Cat, the Mountain Climber

Cookie, a spinster.

Last night Cookie the Cat was doing her usual routine of waddling around with her claws out. She hasn't retracted them since the Clinton administration.

While some members of my family believe this is a result of old age, I think it's because she had, inadvertently, been locked in a closet one evening in the room where Seth was watching the original "Texas Chain Saw Massacres." She thought it was real and wants to be prepared.

I really don't blame her a bit. If I had claws, I wouldn't retract them either.

Honestly, why would anyone
make a movie like this?

Nonetheless, in the middle of the night when she is making brief but frequent trips from the foot of our bed to the water bowl or the litter box, the clicking is very annoying.

She has also taken to what I call "mountain climbing." As a result of her advancing years and a case of what is technically known as "cat chubbiness," she can no longer spring up on the bed like she used to. 

She takes a running leap (such as it is) and adheres to the side of the mattress, hanging on by her claws and then --not unlike a mountain climber -- pulls herself up using not ropes and hooks but sheer determination in order to sleep by Seth's side...and prevent him from turning.

Danger.

When he sleeps on his back, he snores which then causes me to wake up...and this is when I hear the cat clicking about on her nocturnal adventures.

Seth is off to work before the sun rises and had already departed when, after an apparently endless episode in the litterbox during which she clawed at the glass shower door for what seemed like a half hour, Cookie clicked her way back to the bedroom. Taking a deep breath, she hurled herself against the bed, attempting to claw herself back up.

Something went wrong, however, and she began to struggle, clawing and falling, clicking and hurling until, unable to stand it for a second longer, I shouted out into the darkness, way too loud for that hour of the morning, "RETRACT YOUR CLAWS, YOU WEIRDO!!!!"

The Mad Pooper, of course.

The poor thing fell backwards off the bed and clicked away at top speed. This made me laugh and I lay cackling in my bed for a few minutes. For those of you who feel sorry for Cookie the Cat, her short term memory is shot and she clicked back a few minutes later only to begin the entire process again.

I laughed a) because that's what I do and b) because a few summers ago, Nifi, aka the Mad Pooper, had been distracted while on his way to the litter box one morning by the noisy arrival of an oil delivery and ran into my closet to hide.

Nifi skipped the section of the manual about how impolite it is to poop in someone's closet so I tried rousting him from his hiding spot only to have him burrow deeper, no doubt planning a direct hit in my shoe basket.

Having barely recovered from a recent stealth-pee in one of my Birkenstocks, I shouted out "MAN UP, BUDDY!! STOP HIDING IN THE CLOSET!!" only to realize that the oil guy was right outside the window and had heard that. Not knowing I had cats, he now thought that Seth was hiding in the closet. Thinking this was funny, I never corrected him.

On that note, I want to wish you all a great weekend. Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment. See you on Monday!