On Wednesday, our Holy Mattress and Box Spring of Lower-Back Redemption was scheduled to arrive. I had stood our old, tenderized mattress up against the dresser and cleared out the shoes, electronics, packing Styrofoam, assorted, storage bins and life-sized, dust bunnies. Pippin and Sam (our 9-month-old kittens) scrambled from one end of the cave to the other. Their hideout had been un-hid and they were now Exposed to any cat-crisis that might surface. Kat headed off to work while I settled in to a long day. I launched into the blogosphere and began blogging like I never blogged before. Actually, I performed the extended Prologue to blogging - a ritual of virtual-procrastination via re-organizing MP3 files, naming digital photographs that I took 8 months ago and checking out porn websites (But that's just between you and me. Shhhhhhhh!) .
An hour into the Blog-Zone, I noticed that Pippin had been running and pet-flopping solo for the last 5 minutes which, in Blog-Zone time, meant at least a half hour. Where was Sam? I served up breakfast for the cats, taking care to make nice, loud noises with the food dishes. Still... no Sam. I have learned that it's important to play it cool when dealing with cats. If you acted like you needed them, whe-he-hell... that sounds like a good reason to hide. So... I sauntered. Into the living room. Not there. Kitchen? Not there. Bathroom? Hallway? Bedroom?
"Sam?" No! Composure, Deckard! Composure!
I checked beneath the dresser. Under the desk. Behind the doors. In the closets. In the shower. Behind the toilet. Behind the refrigerator-
Suddenly, I struck on an idea - toys! Wondrous, loud, freakout-inducing toys! Now, the toys will no longer service the Boredom of others! They shall service me! (this extended Cat Expedition had deprived me of coffee Sustenance well beyond acceptable limits) I scrambled to every corner of the cave, retrieving every toilet-paper roll, wadded piece of paper, dowel rod, ribbon fragment and jangly, fuzz-ball I could find. I kicked them from one end of the apartment into the other. I was the frigging Dick Van Dyke/One-Man-Band of dowel rods, jingly balls (watch the comments, bub) and paper wads. Pippin had planted himself in the bathroom doorway, watch the parade go by and sit this Adventure out. I reached the bedroom with still no sign of Sam.
"Sam," I barked. "Sam!" Fuck it. He'll come. Oh yes, he will come.
I kicked the jingly balls and paper balls against the wall for a couple of minutes then finally ground to a halt. Hot and cold flashes of adrenaline flooded my caffeine-deficient system. What if Sam got out the front door? What if he was wandering through the Wilderness of New York or, worse, had been abducted and forced to sell bootleg DVDs on Canal Street? I pivoted towards the bedroom door, ready race to the front door and Save my Endangered cat!
Then, something caught my eye... high above me and to my left. Comfortably nestled at the top of the old mattresses. I had an Audience... a hideously-Cute and Innocent audience.
Bastard.
Five hours after their scheduled "Window for Delivery", my new mattress arrived...
1 comment:
Deckard, you write so damn well!! I mean, other people write about funny anecdotes or musings or what have you, but _you_ are such a talented writer to boot, it's great!
You had me roaring with laugther!
I've had similar scares with my cats (oh my gods no, they are lost and it's all my fault!).
Now I train them:
sometimes I give them a can of wet food. I call them in a high pitched voice ("Manger? Manger minous?!")... not that they need this because they have supersonic hearing when it comes to tins being opened, but the "Manger-Manger" call is a good way to get them to come out of their hiding places when they do decide to play hide and seek. ;)
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