Fetch the Mousie

Last Edit August 30, 1999

Cat owners recognize this one.
It's the only time that you know you have to reflect - that special time during the day which requires you to be seated and not in motion.
Captive.
A time to ponder the meaning of life. Solitude.
Which is interrupted by the cat, who, knowing you to be captive, brings you a stuffed mouse. And gives you that "I'm a cat. You have to love me." look.
Dan's cat is special and likes to play fetch the mousie when he is so seated.
She thinks she is a dog.
Since she's a baby, he has to play with her.
"Bobo" insists.
So there he is.
Sitting.
And trying for some piece of mind. No, I didn't spell it wrong.
And he must play "Fetch the mousie" with the cat.
And she will return it.
And he will continue to throw it.
Until SHE is tired.
Usually before he runs out of thoughts.
Then she will try to crawl into his lap, while he is still thinking about things.
Those of you who do not have cats that are declawed will know the feeling of feline claws on tender skin.
There are times when Bobo wishes to explore the shower. Ranger and Little Bit do this as well. It's a cat thing. They wonder why their humans get into a situation where water actually runs onto them. Their opinions about this vary - but Little Bit has severely bitten the groomer in her expression of distaste for such activity. This does not stop them from going into a shower. Even a damp one.
Bobo's ventures into the shower are complicated by the mysterious forces that shut the door shut behind her.
The forces will open the door, the other door. And leave it open until the cat reaches it - at which time it closes.
This is repeated from one door (sliding shower door) to the other, about as long as she played Fetch the Mousie.
When this second game if over, it is time for "I'm a Cute Kitty" on the bed.
Bobo then becomes verbal with fully 2 minute conversations.
Alternated with gremlin runs (or thundering cats). You know what I mean, that certain something that comes over a normally placid cat that causes it to run madly around the house for no particular reason. Ranger runs head-on into my legs at times. Little Bit is faster.
Bobo growls at doorbells.
Bobo lives with Dan and Kathy in the company of Rose and Tooter.
Rose was named for her desire to de-petal roses and strew them about the floor.
Tooter is named for his need for his own bathroom (he has a guest bath) and the need to give his litter pan a wide birth. He digs to China in his litter pan - and then forgets to bury what should be buried. Guests do not use his bathroom.
His digging can cause litter to accumulate in the shower track - this makes the door hard to close and when the shower is turned on, the hapless victim is left standing in litter pan mud.
Little Bit is fairly neat, so far. Ranger has a tendency to find paper on the floor if the litter pan is not cleaned on his demand. He will tell you. Ranger will saunter over and whack me on the knee, issuing a meow as he does this. This same tactic is used for "My food is more than 2 hours old - put some fresh stuff in here please."
Ranger has been known to leap onto the counter and make off with a large chicken breast. If I catch him, the dog gets a treat.
Ranger has decided that hell will freeze over before I am again allowed to lock him out of my room. He has decided it is not appropriate that the little kitten, Little Bit, get all the attention. Little Bit, a female, took 5 days to seduce Ranger, who now will hold her down and groom her - the look of contentment on her kitten face is a sight to behold.
Trim, my dog and the original ruler of the household, decided enough was enough, and snuck onto the bed the other night. A no-no.
I rolled over, dodging cats, stretched out my legs and heard a thump and a groan.
The dog fell off the bed.
She stays on the floor now. My cats took over the dog bed.
Alternated with Jump on the Foot - which is a game Ranger has, thank God, grown tired of. Little Bit is still in full romp. Bed time is time to leap about and bite the toes. This was highlighted by the snuggle under the blankets routine - cute until the little devil wormed her way down under the blankets and bit me in the calf. At least she doesn't still sleep in my hair. And so far, when I am typing, she only sits behind me on the chair seat. Unless she is busy jumping in and out of the folds of the fancy Regency dress hanging on the dressmaker's dummy. Ranger has been known to join her at this game.
I am waiting for them to try Fetch the Mousie.
They are already familiar with the shower door.