Monday, February 15, 2010

If cats could whistle

It all started innocuously enough.  A sock on the stair or in the living room.  I thought I had dropped things as I trundled the laundry downstairs to the washing machine.  Or I blamed the kiddle for leaving dirty socks around.  But then I found a sock under the dining room table.  Hmmmmm.   Definitely not on my flight path.

Before unemployment I was gone most of the day, often home for a quick lunch because I lived close enough to work to make up for my poor, or lack of, lunch planning in the mornings.  When I got home I'd usually crack open the door to see a big toothy yawn from the nearest cat bed on a living room chair.  Lazy stretch and a meow from the big one we occasionally call Thud.  LWK, aka, Little White Kitty was usually curled in a tight ball on our bed and would come out to beg treats as soon as I started making lunch.  Her timing was impeccable.

Once I started staying home for lack of employment, the two of them were incredible pests.  I imagine they were confused because I wasn't leaving them in peace to get their morning naps as usual.  I was always moving about the house, doing this or that, or sitting at the computer with that very entertaining pointer arrow moving about the screen.  It was during this transition period that I started noticing more and more socks strewn about the house.

Now I'll be the first to admit that am not the most careful of housekeepers.  I like to joke that I can interior design them, but not keep them, but even I do not leave socks littering the floor like so many bleached leaves.  Hmmmm.

And then one day I caught the perpetrator.

Picture a cat crouched at the back window watching the birds in the trees and in her mouth...a sock.  She thought she was fast enough that I didn't notice, but I saw her.  LWK dropped the sock like a hot potato and looked up at the sky and I could swear I heard a breathy little whistle coming from a mouth that can't pucker.

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