Duncan and I had our first fight yesterday.
I bought five plants for the garden but brought them inside because we were expecting frost last night. Duncan wanted them. I made it abundantly clear that he was to leave them alone. I moved them from the floor to the coffee table when he wouldn’t leave them alone. He knows he’s not allowed on the coffee table.
A few hours later, I went to take a shower. Usually he hangs out in the bathroom with me when I take a shower. He likes to sit on the edge of the bathtub and watch. This time he didn’t. While I was in the shower, he was downstairs savaging those poor innocent plants. Not only did he knock them over, dig them up, and eat them, but he did so on my laptop, as evidenced by the pile of dirt on my keyboard.
For the first time since Duncan came into my life, I told him he was a bad cat.
Here is one of the fundamental differences between a cat and a dog. When you scold a dog he will hang his head and look guilty. When you scold a cat he will roll his eyes and say “Whatever.” Cats are the teenagers of the animal world.
GC and I went out last night, and we put the bedraggled plants on the back porch so that Duncan couldn’t get them again. We meant to bring them back in when we got home, but we forgot. We were all tucked into bed when GC remembered the plants. The three of us trundled downstairs to save the plants from the frost. We put them in the art studio with the door closed to save them from Duncan. Then we went back to bed.
But only two of us went back to bed. Duncan was missing.
Duncan has a lot of nicknames. We call him The Gargoyle, because he likes to perch on top of us in bed and stare down at us like a gargoyle. We also call him The Little Japanese Girl, because he likes to walk on our backs when we sleep on our stomachs.
“Where’s the Little Japanese Girl?” I asked.
“I think he stayed downstairs,” said GC. “He might be in the basement, hunting mice.”
Then GC fell asleep.
Me, I don’t fall asleep easily without Duncan. We sleep cuddled together with his arm wrapped around me and mine wrapped around him, and his face tucked under my chin.
I lay there, waiting for him. A couple of times I thought I heard him coming, but I was wrong.
And then I heard him playing. He was running around the living room. It occurred to me that maybe he’d caught himself a mouse and brought it up from the basement. Which, as it turned out, was exactly right.
I went downstairs and he was in full alert mode, crouched by a bookcase and trying to keep an eye on both sides of it, because his mouse was behind it.
I went back to bed, resigned to sleeping without Duncan.
I told GC – who has never had a cat – that if Duncan ever catches a mouse and brings it to him, he should treat it with great reverence, because it’s the ultimate gift.
“You have to praise Duncan extensively and tell him what a good hunter he is,” I said.
“Okay,” mumbled GC.
“You have to admire the mouse and tell Duncan how big and ferocious it looks.”
“Okay,” mumbled GC.
“And then you have to eat it,” I said.
Duncan didn’t join us until dawn, and then it was just a quick visit to tell us about his adventures and get a quick head rub. Then he hopped back down and returned to his post at the bookcase, where he has remained ever since. Poor guy hasn’t slept in at least twelve hours.
You sure Duncan clobbered the plants, and that he wasn’t framed? I mean, did you actually see him do it? Maybe that’s the reason he didn’t look guilty…
– RG>
Probably he’s determined to get that mouse for you to make up for the plant thing. Because like teenagers, cats might roll their eyes and say “whatever”, but the stuff you say does affect them — it just sometimes takes a while for it to become evident.
I love the way you write about Duncan. He is such a character. I am sure he is feeling really sorry for the plants. He is just too cute to get too mad at. I hope he brings the mouse to GC, so that he can make soup out of it.
Dave and I have had this argument before – you can’t discpline a cat or train them like a dog – they just don’t care.
Dave has pretty much responded by putting hooks on any door he doesnt want the cats to enter (he’s convinced they can open them by themselves – they can, but only when he doesn’t close the door properly)
My motto is “cats don’t have boundaries” but that’s probably why I woke up to soggy cat food all over the floor this morning (they dumped their food container and their water dish!)
Duncan is awesome! I just love the way you describe him
Cats are never guilty. Or embarrassed, either. Cats are just cats.
How can the cats be so cute and SO evil? I have a huge ficus in a pot, so tall that the cats would have to climb it to get to a leaf (altho it’s too skinny to climb!), but they still try to get at it. I put sharp rocks all over the soil in the pot, which has at least kept them from using it for a toilet. When we returned from vacation, there were 4 dead mice neatly lined up in the middle of the kitchen floor. I’m still puzzling about the neatness of that arrangement….
RG, I’m almost certain it was Duncan, even though the evidence is all circumstantial. He was the only one with the motive and the opportunity.
XUP, do you really believe that? (I believe it of teenagers, but not cats.)
Kathleen, your comment made me laugh. GC is going to google mouse soup recipes.
Valerie, I think that’s their secret weapon: just not caring. You can only control someone with their permission.
Finola – he is pretty awesome. Sorry I missed you on Saturday – next time!
Gayle, what about when a cat loses his footing and falls down and pretends he did it on purpose and starts licking his leg while he’s down there, as if to say “I didn’t fall, I just lay down to groom my leg.” Do you think it’s possible they’re slightly embarrassed?
Anna, wow, that’s really wild about the four mice lined up. Those cats must truly love you.
I dunno. I’ve been watching lots of House lately, and the evidence can all point to the one with motive and opportunity, and next thing you know, BAM!, it was lupus all along.
– RG>