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The Terrorists
Their names are Angel, Shy, and Brownie. Angel is a fallen angel. Shy is shy but I suspect you’ve heard it said “You need to look out for the quiet ones.” When the cute little Brownie come to your door selling cookies she appears sweet, gentle and kind and if you’re her parent you know it’s a snow job. That’s our Brownie. They were named before I realized who we were inviting into our home.
Kittens soon become cats, and as the husband of a cat loving wife I’ve become an expert. These three are only the most recent boarders who have passed thru our doors over the last 34 years. The first was Panther. I’ve lost track of the order but here are some of the names, Bill, Moocher, Squeakers, Bucky, Mac, Spam and the most evil of the lot Maggie. My collective name for the them is “The Terrorists.”
I fear going bare foot because Angel and Shy think my toes resemble mice. When I roll over at 3 AM they have a fantasy. They believe they are saber tooth tigers and I’m a mastodon morsel waiting to happen. Meantime Brownie thinks my face is an egg she’s been assigned the task of sitting on until I hatch.
I spent six weeks flat on my back unable to move due to a herniated disc. While I lay unable to defend myself I became the third turn in the current crop of terrorist’s nightly version of the Indianapolis 500.
It was impossible to ignore Bucky short of extracting his teeth. Squeakers was sure my shoes were her litter box.
Why use a scratchboard when you have a Cadillac called living room furniture. Unless shredded wallpaper suddenly catches on and becomes fashionable we will continue to live in the poorest district in all of Appalachia. My doors, walls, closets and carpet have been claimed and reclaimed and reclaimed in a way only a male cat can claim them.
Squeakers was a saver. When ever I was missing something I looked under first the stove and if it didn’t surrender her treasure I explored the dark reaches beneath the dishwasher.
Mac loved mice. Twice a day he brought them home for a play date. We began referring to bird food as cat food because Span regularly dined at the foot of our bird feeder.
My grandson we delighted with the new kind of sand at Grandma’s house, it stuck together better than the sand at home. Flowerbeds bore an equal fascination for everyone but Grandpa who was informed in the truth of the matter. While we’re on this subject Maggie had a similar way of lodging her discontent in the middle of the dining room table.
I have a way of referring to Bill, Spam and Angel’s mouthy persistence. It’s best I don’t use it on a Christian Web site, but the generic form of the name is “Sir Complains a lot.” Moocher never left the bath room and never used it in an approved manner. Panther was a deviant who specialized in attempted infant sudden death syndrome.
I like my wife’s cats when it is convenient but as you can tell it isn’t often that it’s convenient, but the party line is “I love her cats.” You see Linda has a refrigerator magnet that reads “husband and cat are missing…fifty dollar reward for the return of the cat.”
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