It started out as a normal evening. Chachi, the cat, sat staring out the window saying goodnight to his TV as dusk started to settle in. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a peaceful and routine evening.
I grabbed him from his window seat to bring him upstairs but I noticed hesitation on his part. It almost seemed like he was saying, “Stop manhandling me mummy!” He’s found his voice and these days if something doesn’t go to his liking, he lets it be known without hesitation. A sign of a spoiled cat?
We made our way upstairs and after giving him a kiss on his forehead I left him to do what he needed to do. His nightly routine consisted of a thorough cleaning, his daily bath so to speak. I marvel at the diligence he puts into cleaning himself and that tongue does some heavy duty work. I got ready for bed and walked back into the room and there he was looking none the worse for wear, just a tad fluffier. He had his front paws crossed and there was no denying the cuteness. We stared at each other, sort of a Mexican standoff, and as I held out my arms, he dashed towards me. Thinking he was going to jump into them, I lowered myself slightly. He ran fast and just before he got to me he veered to the left, slid under the bed, came out on the other side, jumped on the bed, dashed past me and ran into the other room! I could have sworn, he yelled, “Wheee!” Chachi, the cat, had no intention of going to bed and my nightmare was just starting.
Ignoring the little brat, I climbed into bed ready to meditate and to watch another episode of “Seal Team,” on TV. Little did I know that Chachi had other plans. He walked back into the room, threw me a look of disdain, jumped on the bedside table and sat there staring at me with an unwavering look. Meditation was now out of the question. I asked, “Do you want to go to bed?” He let out a loud mummy meow. I turned off the lights and the little monster cuddled up next to me. All was peaceful, nice even, for about 60 seconds. Then he jumped off the bed, landed with a huge thud on the floor and took off running. This pattern went on for the next 10 to 15 minutes. I finally yelled, “Enough Chachi! It’s bedtime.” He threw me this look which said, “That’s what you think!” and took off again.
Ignoring him as best as I could, I snuggled under the covers pretending to sleep. Cookie Dough decided it was time to play football. He walked over to his dry food, grabbed a handful, threw it on the floor and started kicking it around. He was in the best of spirits and having a whale of a time. I sat up and gave him one of my sternest looks but he kept on playing. We were heading into the midnight hour by now and furball was in his element. Decorum was out the window and so was good manners. He was bent on showing me that he wore the pants in this household and that he carried a whip as well!
To make a long story short, Teletubby wasn’t giving up anytime soon. Football was fun but he needed more entertainment. Walking to his toy box, he pulled out a stuffed bird, the kind that tweets. He slapped it around for a bit and it tweeted incessantly. Looking over at me with a gleeful look, he seemed to say, “Mum, this is fun!”
Note to Self: Kill that Bird!
Finally, at around 2 a.m. all that energy was spent. Walking over to the bed, he jumped up and landed with a loud thud again. These days there is no soft landing, boss-man does what he wants. He pressed his whiskers all my face purring loudly and then he plopped down and within minutes, he was in dream land or wherever cats go when they go to sleep. I, on the other hand, was climbing walls by now! Did Chachi just get promoted to Lord and master? God, have mercy!
By the way:
He’s up for adoption! Any takers?
Just kidding.
Have an amazing day.
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