"Yeah, right," you might think, imagining I can require cats to do anything shows how solidly in the real world I live. That descriptive saying, "Like herding cats," didn't come from nowhere.
True, cats are not amenable to instruction, demands or even polite requests. If I go out the back door at dusk and call them to come in, they will come galloping up to me. Sachi used to trot right through the door when she first started going out, but Kitsu took her under paw and taught her The Way of the Cat. Now they run up to me, spin around, kink their tails and gallop off sideways, laughing over their shoulders.
I, however, am a mean and tricky human. I don't refill the food dish after mid afternoon. When it gets close to dusk, I get out the crunchies and rattle the bag loudly. I pour the little nuggets from a distance into their glass dish. It makes a lovely tinkling noise.
The girls know what I'm up to, so they still don't come when I call, but the sound of food lingers in their cat brains. Eventually Kitsu will try to sneak into the house through the cat door to have a little nosh. When I hear the clinking of a cat tag against the glass dish, I casually wander into the kitchen. If it's Kitsu, I slip out the human door, lock the cat door, and catch Sachi. The chase game isn't as fun for her if Kitsu's not participating. If it's Sachi, I just wait. I know Kitsu will creep in before too long.
Of course being locked in means that, unless they've had a particularly strenuous day, they have to help me out with everything I do.
Occasionally, like tonight, one or the other, or both, will bound around looking for excitement in all of the wrong places. Tonight Kitsu jumped on the switch for my computer's surge protector. And there went everything I'd been working on down the tube.
So, Kitsu, this one's for you.
What could be better revenge on a female than making her butt look big? And publishing it for the world to see.
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