Kitty Tales

My cat is strange. Probably not the strangest cat ever, but weird enough for me to have the occasional story about her bizarre behavior.

This morning was fairly typical. Alarm goes off, I haul my sorry ass out of bed, feed the cats, and proceed to the bathroom. My girl cat, Pudgy, was sitting outside of my bedroom door as I left the bathroom. I keep the door to the bedroom closed at all times because I have an antique dresser that I don't want clawed up. Pudge looked up at me beseechingly, her cat eyes huge in the early morning dimness. Miaow? Rowr? Hmm, it's really difficult to spell cat noises. She's talking to me and pawing rather frantically at my bedroom door. I decided to do a little experiment. I was going to stand there, staring down at her, and see how long she would continue to beg to go in the bedroom.

Well, I gotta give the fat furball some credit; she kept it up. She looked sort of pitiful - her tiny head and fat body and stubby little tail. After a few minutes I relented and opened the bedroom door. Pudge immediately darted inside and began to rub her little face on my laundry basket. I don't know if she felt that my clothes weren't permeated with enough "Essence of Pudge" or if she simply enjoys the feel of the rope handles against her whiskers.

After marking my laundry, she crept over to the closet and sniffed at the door. She has a bit of a fascination with closets but since she has a nasty habit of clawing at the things she finds in them, I tend to discourage her from exploring them.

As I wrote that last sentence, an idea popped up. We have all observed cats staring into space and attacking nothing that humans can see. Maybe when Pudge is clawing things up in the closet, she's saving me from monsters that are only visible to felines. Perhaps I owe my continued existence to my brave little kitty.

At this point, I'm dressed and ready to leave the bedroom. I'm hoping that I'm not going to have to tackle her and throw her out of the bedroom. I had to do that to my boy cat, Penguin, once and I managed to give myself a decent case of turf toe in the process. Not fun. Surprisingly enough, when I opened the door, Pudge strolled out, cool as can be.

I have decided that Pudge is making periodic inspections to assure herself that everything is up to her feline standards. Laundry basket? Check. Monster-free closet? Check. Clean sheets? Check. Okie-doke, my work here is done. However, this does not explain why she finds it necessary to hide in the cabinet with my pots and pans. Maybe she loves the feel of Teflon against her fur.