Cats at the shelter are stressed, don’t eat right, and may have come from abusive homes. But just get them into a safe, calm, loving environment, and they perk up, and plump up just fine. See what a little love (and good food) can do?!
As I approach the contraband laying on the floor in front of my favorite couch, I glance over at my kitties. The guilty one is slowly slinking away with tail towards the floor. Without a single word, I have found the guilty party. I, of course, already knew this. As cat owners, we all know who is guilty of what. We know their personalities, their habits, their likes, and dislikes. I know which cat (Gypsy) gets in the trash at night, and which one puts her toys in the water bowl (Gypsy), and who sneaks into the window curtains at night while I am asleep (both, but more Holly, and I can tell by which vertical blinds are pushed aside – they each have a particular spot), and which lady shits outside the box in protest (Holly; Gypsy actually goes behind Holly, and finishes the job of excrement coverage that Holly only gave paw-service to). Yes, as cat people, we know who does what.
My downstairs trash can has (“Incorrect verb form after modal”, Fuck You, Grammar Nazi!) a rectangular piece of heavy cardboard, molded into a kind of garden planter shape. It was part of the packing material from some computer equipment package or another……..probably. It is exactly the proper size, when fitted upside-down inside the trash can, to snuggly fit inside, and bar access to the mostly paper and plastic trash hiding underneath. Cats, being the resourceful and sneaky little bastards they are, and Gypsy, an excellent example of the type, find such things to be a challenge to be overcome, rather than a “KEEP PAWS OUT!” sign. Today it was a piece of cellophane, you know, the kind you pull off the outside of a new CD or DVD to get to the goods inside. Cats just love this stuff. The noise it makes while they pounce and chew only adds to their kitty-pleasure as they attack and destroy their hated foe. To get at this little “toy”, I found that Gypsy had totally turned the blocking-block of cardboard upside-down, still resting inside the trash can. I suppose she thought to hide the deed by not overturning the can, and by not digging the block completely out of the can. But she failed to hide the plastic itself which was the real giveaway.
Yes, cats are much smarter and more resourceful than given credit for in the public eye. I had taken to hiding the paper bag of cat food in the closet so that the little critters would not tear into the bag and spill cat food all over creation (my closet floor). Now this closet, has the type of doors which fold onto themselves accordion style, and to the side when pulled from the center. You know the type. Thankfully one day, I spied Gypsy (yes, the naughtiest of the two) carefully reach her little white paw easily beneath the center of said door, and proceed to pull outward, opening the door. Arrrgh, next I had to add a heavy weight in front of the center of the door, to keep them (you know who “them” are) from opening the door to the fascinating closet in which resides the desirable bag of cat food.
I have one of those plastic tubs, the kind you can get a gallon of ice cream in, from the grocery. They are perfect for keeping dry cat food fresh, with a tight-fitting lid…air tight. One morning I arose to an aborted attempt to get at the cat food. somehow they had managed to get the lid off, and push the container off the counter and onto the floor. Now, it wasn’t quite the mess you would expect. Somehow, God only knows, the tub ended up upside-down on the kitchen floor, on an area rug in front of the sink. All of the dry cat food was still inside the container, and resting on the rug, with not a single crumb outside the tub (or maybe they ate all the ones that were). BUT…………………………………..this was not their last attempt.
I keep the tub towards the back of the counter, kinda in a corner. One day, they managed to pull the tub out from the counter. Then, they very carefully extracted the lid, and very neatly laid it upside-down on the counter behind the tub.
I am sure they had a feast that night!
Damn nosy-naughty-obstinate-stubborn-smartass-resourceful-stomach-driven-cute-little-furballs, full of headaches, fun, surprises, and even grudging shows of affection. They manage to show just the right amount of love and innocence needed, to keep you from being mad at them for more than a millisecond. Don’t try to tell me cats are not smart! They know exactly how to emotionally manipulate their “human’s” to get exactly what they want (which, not surprisingly, is mostly always FOOD).
I growl and complain,
but love them just the same.
They know exactly when to crawl onto your lap, purr, and knead your leg (painfully), while manipulating and seducing you into scratching behind their ears, and with half-closed eyes, give a purrrrfect impression of a little companion who loves, adores, and desperately needs your love, affection, and attention – mostly in the kitchen.
No, don’t tell me cats are not freakin’ smart!