Last night, my husband and I were sitting in the living room, watching TV. I happened to look over just in time to see our kitten walking across the living room. (Is ‘walking’ really the right term for what a cat does? It sounds a little too bourgeois, somehow…)
Anyway, our little girl calmly strutted over to where the dog was lounging on the sofa (his head lolled over the side of the cushion, looking too much like a lower-life-form for her taste, apparently), sidled up as if she was going to rub along the edge of said sofa, then pounced straight into the air, launching a two-second, crazy-paw attack on the poor guy’s face. As our 60-pound black lab sat up, bewilderment etched all over his still-sleepy features, our 5-pound kitten pranced away, trailing smugness like a royal robe.
“Mission accomplished.”
Actually, this was one of Patches’ more focused efforts of the night. Usually it doesn’t seem like her insanity has any goal whatsoever.
About five minutes after the “dog incident”, there she came again, sauntering across the living room. My husband watched until she got right in front of him, then stuck his foot out with a sharp hisssss. If you’re wondering, this occurs nightly… hubby vs. the cat. The cat always acts like it’s the first time he’s pulled this trick; hubby always laughs like he’s never seen her reaction. Sigh…
Come to think of it, he has a lot of fun giving that cat grief. Our sofa and loveseat are set at right angles to each other, with plenty of room to walk between. Patches used to love getting herself all wound up, and then go racing around in circles—jump up on the loveseat, run across the back, jump off the arm, land on the arm of the other, go racing across the back of the sofa, onto the ground, beeline for the loveseat, repeat.
One night, my husband was sitting in his usual spot—right in the corner by the arm that Patches lands on—when she started going into her frenzied one-kitten routine. She made one round, then came around for lap number two. Racing across the back of the loveseat in a blur of fur, she sprang across the gap between the sofas… and ran headfirst into what my husband tells me is termed a “stiff-arm”. My husband had put up his hand at the exact right moment, exact right height, and she slammed into it like a fly hitting a windshield. I’m surprised dear hubby didn’t pop something, he was laughing so hard. Her look of utter disdain and then apparent lack of concern as she started preening herself were pretty funny though.
It happened the next night too. After that, much to hubby’s chagrin, Patches now refuses to jump over that gap, no matter how much someone coaxes or bribes. She just looks at you like “what do you think I am, stupid?” and goes via floor instead.
Of course, don’t get me wrong: hubby and that cat have something special going on. (Don’t let him know I told you though, he’s got this whole “I’m a dog-lover” thing he wants John Q. Public to see.) But guess whose lap little kitty curls up in when she’s done batting at the dogs or chasing... whatever it is that only she can see on the floor? Guess who loves to rub her until she’s purring louder than an outboard motor? Those two were made for each other.
Speaking of love, guess who else kitty curls up with, when hubby’s lap isn’t available? It’s amazing that huge dog never crushes her! Maybe last night she was just annoyed that he was sleeping when she wanted to play.
Anyway, our little girl calmly strutted over to where the dog was lounging on the sofa (his head lolled over the side of the cushion, looking too much like a lower-life-form for her taste, apparently), sidled up as if she was going to rub along the edge of said sofa, then pounced straight into the air, launching a two-second, crazy-paw attack on the poor guy’s face. As our 60-pound black lab sat up, bewilderment etched all over his still-sleepy features, our 5-pound kitten pranced away, trailing smugness like a royal robe.
“Mission accomplished.”
Actually, this was one of Patches’ more focused efforts of the night. Usually it doesn’t seem like her insanity has any goal whatsoever.
About five minutes after the “dog incident”, there she came again, sauntering across the living room. My husband watched until she got right in front of him, then stuck his foot out with a sharp hisssss. If you’re wondering, this occurs nightly… hubby vs. the cat. The cat always acts like it’s the first time he’s pulled this trick; hubby always laughs like he’s never seen her reaction. Sigh…
Come to think of it, he has a lot of fun giving that cat grief. Our sofa and loveseat are set at right angles to each other, with plenty of room to walk between. Patches used to love getting herself all wound up, and then go racing around in circles—jump up on the loveseat, run across the back, jump off the arm, land on the arm of the other, go racing across the back of the sofa, onto the ground, beeline for the loveseat, repeat.
One night, my husband was sitting in his usual spot—right in the corner by the arm that Patches lands on—when she started going into her frenzied one-kitten routine. She made one round, then came around for lap number two. Racing across the back of the loveseat in a blur of fur, she sprang across the gap between the sofas… and ran headfirst into what my husband tells me is termed a “stiff-arm”. My husband had put up his hand at the exact right moment, exact right height, and she slammed into it like a fly hitting a windshield. I’m surprised dear hubby didn’t pop something, he was laughing so hard. Her look of utter disdain and then apparent lack of concern as she started preening herself were pretty funny though.
It happened the next night too. After that, much to hubby’s chagrin, Patches now refuses to jump over that gap, no matter how much someone coaxes or bribes. She just looks at you like “what do you think I am, stupid?” and goes via floor instead.
Of course, don’t get me wrong: hubby and that cat have something special going on. (Don’t let him know I told you though, he’s got this whole “I’m a dog-lover” thing he wants John Q. Public to see.) But guess whose lap little kitty curls up in when she’s done batting at the dogs or chasing... whatever it is that only she can see on the floor? Guess who loves to rub her until she’s purring louder than an outboard motor? Those two were made for each other.
Speaking of love, guess who else kitty curls up with, when hubby’s lap isn’t available? It’s amazing that huge dog never crushes her! Maybe last night she was just annoyed that he was sleeping when she wanted to play.
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