A Cat-spiracy

What is it with cats?  I like cats, I really do.  I'm not one of these manly people who won't admit to liking cats because they're more "feminine" sorts of animals.  I like them just fine.  But they really seem to have it in for me.

When I was little we had a cat named Pumpkin.  I don't know what I ever did to honk this cat off, but it was always retaliating against me for some reason.  We had a bean bag chair at my parents' house, and I always enjoyed using it as I watched TV.  And this was one of those vinyl types of beanbag chairs, one that would not simply absorb liquids, if you catch my drift.

It seemed like once a week or so, the damn cat would drink as much water as a feline can handle from its bowl, and she'd take a giant whiz on that beanbag chair.  I know this wasn't a coincidence.  I am absolutely positive that Pumpkin knew precisely when I was heading home from school, and that Three's Company was going to be on soon, and that's where I was going to plop myself.

I can remember one time I watched an entire show before I realized that I had cat whiz covering my body from my armpit down to my knee.  Damn cat.

Nowadays we have a cat, too.  Murray, or "Furry Murray" as we like to call him, is really a great cat.  He is Little Smoot's best buddy.  Little Smoot will go upstairs to go to bed, and if Murray is downstairs, he'll look at the stairs for a second, then he'll leap into action to follow her up to bed.  In the mornings he'll sit there in the bathroom while she gets ready for school.

And he's out to get me.

The other day he decided to barf all over the floor -- a floor he knows I walk on -- just before I was getting Little Smoot off to school.  I am certain that he calculated this, knowing that I had to get the kid off to school, and I didn't have time at that moment to clean this mess up.  And he knew that by the time I got home from dropping her off, I would have forgotten all about it.

And I know that he knew that I was going to be walking around in my bare feet for a bit, and that he had positioned his work in just the right spot so that I'd step directly in it.  And he was right.  I don't know what it sounds like when cats laugh, but I am positive that I heard him chuckling at the same instant I stepped in that treat.  Thanks, Bud.