Posted by Sarah in Family on August 13, 2009
Glenn has a cat, It is definitely Glenn’s cat more than mine. I know because we bought him for Glenn just after our wedding to make up for the tiny little dog that was presented to me in a miniature chest by my sister as Glenn and I were taking our first walk through the bubbles as a married couple. Glenn has never had dogs before. Glenn is more of a cat person.
So as it turns out Glenn’s cat happens to have a few oddities. Do you know why they call cat burglars after this particular animal? It’s because cats are renowned throughout the world for their natural agility. Now Glenn’s cat has more than once awoken from a nap in the sunny spot on the computer desk, stretched out his stripy legs right down to his toes, shaken off the lingering drowsiness, stood, and then hurled himself at the family room window. Each time hitting the window with such force that the glass warps and you are presented with the image of your own stupefied gaze as you watch him slide down the window and crumple into an imitation Davey Crocket’s hat on the floor. The animal then has the gall to right himself and give you a filthy look, like his stupidity was all your fault for failing him in his kitten hood. They always blame the parents.
He’s smashed countless kitchen items mostly by his tendency to jump for the bench, totally miscalculate the distance ( we obviously didn’t send him to a school that valued excellence in Maths) try to save himself by sticking all his limbs, tail included, out from his body at right angles and then rotate wildly. This tactic has the probability outcome of:
Cat landing safely on bench: 0%
All cups plates and glasses previously stacked on bench morphed into pile off broken rubble: 100%
A perfect example of this cat’s destructive stupidity happened the other night. There was a casserole dish…..hum….waiting to get washed on the bench. Cat decided he would like a quick lick of the contents so he jumped up onto the bench, Now the dish had been pushed all the way to the back of the bench leaving a gap of about 6cm between it and the wall. Cat decided that instead of sitting on the bench in front of the dish he would squeeze himself into the 6cm gap between the dish and the wall. I can only guess that after a few licks he got a cramp in his legs or maybe the claustrophobia got the better of him and he just needed more space to breath. Most sensible people or even most sensible cats when over come with such emotions might simply move around to the other side of the dish, the side with all the room. But no this cat decided that the best course of action was to but his back against the wall plant all fore paws on the dish and push, and consequently I no longer have a casserole dish.
There is however one reason why that Cat hasn’t been told to pack his bags and hit the road. Last week Lani had her first excursion for this year. They took her to a lovely place called the Museum of Fire, a place were they take groups of small children, walk them through a dark room full of mock ups of children’s bed rooms burnt to a crisp and show them pretty pictures of "All that remains off the little girls pink pyjamas that got burnt in the fire". Since she’s come back from that excursion we’ve had to "Check that all the electricity is turned off to the house before we go to bed," read labels on our pyjamas to show that they’re low fire danger, and talk non stop about all the fire precautions we have in our house.
This I don’t mind so much, it was the first night where the horror of it all was still fresh in her mind and every attempt at sleep ended with a shivering, sobbing girl sitting on my lap desperately trying to keep her eyes from closing for fear of what she would see. We tried to soothe, we prayed desperate prayers for comfort, but still the fear was strong. I thought maybe if she read she would fall asleep but she still continued to call out every few minutes to let me know she was still beside her self with fear. Then I realized she had been quiet for a while, I tip toed in, needing to see her peaceful. When I peeked around the door, there he was. Mr Cat snuggled up against my sleeping child, his rhythmic purring and warmth hushing away the dread and easing her into sleep. He turned his head to look at me and the look he gave me said "Yeah you say you hate me but I know you don’t, you need me. Besides, maybe I was an answer to prayer".