Friday, December 2, 2016

Me and Mopsy

Almost all suggestions welcome… except the one somebody said about getting rid of the cat.

If you have a pet or have had one, you’ll know what I’m talking about when I say pets can be destructive. I don’t think they mean to tear up things, but they learn ways to get what they want, and they are focused.

Mopsy sleeps a lot during the day, and maybe during the night, but eight hours of continuous sleep is out of the question for her. She takes what we call “cat naps”, usually four to five hours in duration, and when she wakes up, it’s chow time no matter what the clock says. I always leave dry food in her bowl and around 3 A.M., I’ll hear her crunching, but her favorite fare is the canned stuff. She’ll take three or four bites of Meow Mix, or whatever the flavor and brand of the month is, and then, silence. This is where I drift back off to sleep. In just a few minutes, I’ll feel this tickling fuzziness on my nose. Mopsy has jumped up on the bed and started her nightly routine, the one that always works.

She tickles, and I turn over and cover up my head. She sits there awhile and then moves on to a ‘smell of the ocean’ candle I have on the nightstand. Mopsy loves different smells and she is madly in love with this candle, rubbing her face all over it, knocking it from side to side, moving it around, and eventually crashing it to the floor - her goal.

I lie very still pretending to be deep in sleep. Then I hear her jump down and attack the wires from the lamp and the tv, rattling them as loudly as possible. Next on tap is her scratching post, stretching, pulling, clawing, in preparation for the morning race down the hallway at warp speed. I breathe a loud sigh and always think, yes, now I can go back to sleep. And I do for around five minutes until she’s back.

The next sound comes from my bathroom. Never mind that Mopsy has bowls of water in the bedroom and the kitchen. No. She’s up on the sink. She must have her drink from the tap. I’m drifting in and out as I hear the paper cup being knocked around, then the bar of soap gets slapped into the sink. Silence for a few minutes as she waits to hear if I’m getting up. Then the thump of her drop to floor and in seconds she is tickling my nose again. I pet her a few times and say, “Mopsy, it’s too dark to get up”, but English is not her second language when it’s contrary to her desires. She sits awhile, again, and I drift off.

Now come the real guns, that sound no cat owner ever wants to hear. Chewing, slurping, crunching, rattling. I don’t even have to open my eyes to know what’s up. Mopsy is sitting on my sewing machine, pushed behind the pillow I have purposely placed against the window to discourage her bad behavior, which obviously doesn’t work and has never worked. She is gnawing on the cords of the blind…as loudly as possible and with purpose and passion.

My feet hit the floor as I switch on the lamp. You wouldn’t want to hear the next few words that come out of my mouth, but Mopsy thinks they are manna from heaven. She pauses for a second as my feet search around for slippers, but she continues to chew so as not to slow down my forward progress. I’ve glanced at the clock and grimaced at 3:15, but what the heck, I’m wide awake and already up.


I walk over to the window and delicately start to lift Mopsy from her munching perch. I can see her body tense and I at least know enough to back off. She’s mad but she pauses to listen as I say, “Okay, let’s go get some fishy.”

Understanding English perfectly now, she jumps down and races me to the kitchen.