One day last week when I was bored, I jumped on Mom and sent her lunch tray flying. I usually don't do things like that, but I wanted to play, and Mom didn't. Not only that, she was chowing down on a chicken sandwich and wouldn't share. So I crouched down, pretending I was a great cat hiding in high savanna grass, looking for yummy wildebeests. Excited, I pounced and grabbed one. Oops--it was Mom's foot in those dopey reindeer sock slippers she got for Christmas. She jerked, flipped her tray, almost bonking me with an upside-down teacup. Boy, what a mess!
"KittyCat!" Her voice shot through me like a bullet.
"Yes Mommy?" I mewled all innocent like. I sat on her dropped sandwich so she couldn't pick it up and toss it out.
"Move!" It was an order. Arms folded, Mom glared down at me. "I have just had it with you, Cat."
Ha, ha. For sure I've got her good and ticked when she calls me plain old "Cat." I'm thinking this could be fun, so I laid myself down and flattened my belly over that sandwich so tight, I almost pushed it clear through the carpet. Then, back to playing like I'm that savanna cat and protecting my prey, I hissed.
Bad move. Next second, I was standing on the garage floor. And that's only cuz cats land on their feet.
Except for Mom's burst of temper though, it was kinda like a kid getting sent to his room where he's got all those cool electronic games and such. I had fun checking out stuff tossed out there around Christmas, and exploring places rearranged since the last time I played in the garage.
When I stepped down from a shelf to the top of the clothes dryer, its warmth made me sleepy. About that time, Mom came and scooped me up.
Taking me inside and over to the couch, she set me on a cushion. "I expect after being stuck in that messy garage, you'll think about being a good kitty," she said.
And of course I would. Sleeping, even savanna cats are good kitties.
(c) 2012, Bernice W. Simpson