Hour Cats

“What if,” I wondered, “I took my camera and followed our cats around for an hour just to see what they do? Would the resulting photos be amazing?” The idea fizzled when I realized how much time they spend:

• Sleeping
• Licking their nether regions
• Sit staring at me blankly whenever a camera gets within fifty feet of them
• Sleeping

I scrapped the notion of a dedicated hour, but did pay more attention to their shenanigans. What happened over the next few mornings amused me enough to suspect a pattern.

Around 7:30 a.m. they puddle around our bedroom door because they want breakfast. Never mind that they have a container of free-choice kibble available night and day. If I’m in bed they want me out of bed serving them. Dah.

After I divide a can of cat food between two dishes I head for the laundry room. Both cats, giddy with excitement, weave between my feet all the way down the stairs. I’m not sure if they’re trying to kill me or not. I like to think the “not,” is more likely, but I just can’t be sure. There’s something about their eyes and twitching tails that carry a whiff of murderous intention.

I place the dishes on the floor and Pudgy starts eating immediately. Giese spends a moment checking around the room for…actually I have no idea what she’s checking for, but she does it thoroughly. After she’s assured there are no boogy men or mice Giese goes straight for whichever dish Pudgy is eating from and takes over. I’ve figured out over time that Pudgy knows this will happen, so she eats as much as she can from the plate before Giese meanders over. Then, acting huffy, Pudgy slips over to the untouched full plate and resumes eating. Smart girl.

Seemingly two-seconds later, Pudge and Giese begin racing around the house. I haven’t checked the cat food label for caffeine or sugar, but something triggers their crazy-cat mode. They run over furniture and leap upon each other. They hide under rugs and swat at my feet as I walk by. Eventually, and this is as certain as a painful bite if one touches their exposed bellies, they begin to fight with each other.

I think they’re playing, but sometimes the intensity, oh the intensity, makes me believe blood will soon be spurting. As of this moment nary a drop has been produced. After some rough and tumble smacking and whacking, they just… stop. Amnesia must set in. Each wanders off in a different direction and begins licking body parts in scandalously, enviably, unlady-like ways. The last time I could lift my leg like that…oh, never mind.

By 8:30 a.m. the house is calm again. Now that I’m wide awake Giese and Pudgy are beginning the first of umpteen naps. I find I like the comfort that type of rhythm invokes. Our cats, or on this quest, “hour cats,” are the best part of my day.