Laughing at cats

copyright 2005 Dale Hansen - no reproduction without permission

When I was first married to my wife, we lived in a little 2 room accident built somewhere between indoor plumbing and building codes. It was little more than a cracker box with delusions of grandeur, but it was cheap and that was what we needed at the time.

The kitchen sink of this little house shared the same wall as the bathroom, - albeit on the other side of the wall. The kitchen, the bathroom and the second bedroom made half of the square.

There was a short wall that divided the kitchen from the living room, and in order to get from bathroom to kitchen, you had to walk around this wall. We put a small couch along here which quickly became a favorite recreation area for our cat, Meisha.

Meisha was a small calico cat who like to snuggle until some sudden signal no one else could hear dictated snuggle time was over. There was apparently a heavy penalty for lingering on a lap, because she flew off the moment she heard the warning.

She would sit on that couch and sharpen her claws by the hour. No digging-her-claws-in-furniture-sharpening for her, no - that was for amateurs. She would take each claw individually into her mouth and run them over her teeth so that each one was as sharp as a pin and sliced like a ginsu.

A downside of this obsessive manicuring was that she had a little claw on the far right side of her right foot (her pinky, if you will) that got caught in everything. It caught on furniture, on carpet, on clothing; it got caught once on a visitor’s crotch when he wore sweat pants.

On this particular day, my wife was cleaning the house while I was, well, goofing off in the living room. She was going from kitchen to bathroom and bedroom and back again, passing this couch where our little kitten lay teeth-sharpening her claws.

We also had a dog. Probably because my wife was the only one of us actually moving, he followed her everywhere she went. This means he had his face glued to her leg. Back and forth in front of the couch. In front of the cat. Wagging his tail.

At the first pass, Meisha just ignored him, until that tail came and smacked her from behind. That got her attention.

Second pass, she swung a paw out to catch that tail and missed.

Third pass, she reached with both front legs to snatch that tail in a bear hug. Missed with both claws.

This was going to end. No dog was going to make a fool of her, much less a tail! She stood on the edge of the couch and waited like a lion knowing her prey would soon be in reach. My wife walked by, Meisha stretched. The tail came in sight. Meisha leapt off the couch in a beautiful dive that probably would have gotten her that tail. If her claw hadn’t stuck in the cushion.

As it was, she flattened out in mid air, pivoted on her claw and smashed face-first into the front of the couch.

While trying to extricate herself from the indignity of the position in which she found herself, the dog, who only just noticed the cat was there, turned around and began licking her.

By the way, it’s true. Cats do know when you are laughing at them.