Revenge of the Orange Cats

Richard, an avid dog lover, is allergic to cats. He saw no reason for cats to exist.

Me, the typical cat person, said, “Love me, love my cats”.

Richard gave the cats a try.

Occasional disputes erupt between them. Let’s just say they developed a wary understanding for each other.

One weekend, Richard and I decided to treat ourselves to an overnight at the Salish Lodge.

“So what do you think, do you want to leave the cats by themselves overnight?” asked Richard

“I don’t know, they’ve never been left by themselves before.” I said.

“Come on, Fannie, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s just one night, other people do it all the time.”

Leaving enough food and water for overnight comfort and a clean, fresh commode, our cats entertained themselves for the evening.

When we returned from our road trip we raced for the bathroom.

Each of us chanting, “I gotta go, I gotta go, I gotta go.”

Bursting through the door together we rounded the corner into the hallway, my arm caught on the open linen closet door spinning me into Richard.  Richard wrapped his arms around me cushioning the fall as we collided with the wall and landed arms and legs splayed across the floor.

After assuring all body parts remained located in their correct positions, we commenced our race for the bathroom stopping short of the toilet.

Dancing in disbelief, we saw the toilet bowl filled with our company-quality washcloths with two lying on the floor at the base.

“Oh, yuck,” or something like it, the only printable words we said.

The linen closet stands about three feet from the bathroom door, with the toilet another five feet into the room.  The every day washcloths, located in front of the company-quality washcloths, sit on a shelf four feet from the floor. They remained undisturbed, not even a trace of fur.

Two contented orange cats watched from their perch in the family room at the end of the hall, eyes blinking in unison.

The next day Richard gave the cats some attention.  He chased them around the house, they chased the feather toy and he administered raspberries to their bellies.

The phone rang interrupting the last raspberry. A new client. Somehow the cats sensed this and took action.

Sadie leaped up on Richard’s desk walking back and forth in front of him.  He ignored her while he searched for something on the computer. She deposited kitty roca on his hands and keyboard. Tail held high and a satisfied look on her face as she leaped off the desk.

What could he do? He couldn’t say, “I have to call you back, my cat just pooped on my keyboard.”

How professional.

Mere seconds later, still reeling from the shock of the first kitty salvo and feigning attention to the new client, Wicket sat just out of arms reach and demonstrated his yodeling technique.

As I mentioned before, “Love me, love my cats”.

In case you are wondering, it took seven company-quality washcloths to absorb the water in the toilet bowl.

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About Fannie Cranium

Writing since she could first hold a pen, Tracy Perkins formed her alter ego, "Fannie Cranium" at the suggestion of her husband. Tracy understands smiling makes people wonder what she’s been up to.
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