The cats are under siege. Well, the three Ragdolls that is - Fancy is asleep next to me. It rained last night and the top of the pool screen is covered with droplets of water, just waiting to be released with the slightest movement. A squirrel decided to harass them by jumping onto the outside of the screen. Of course, one of the cats had to pull a counter attack, jumping onto his side of the screen. In a brilliant move, the squirrel ran to the top of the screen and bounced all the way across like Tigger, freeing the raindrops to come down on the cats in a torrent. They were shocked at the sudden downpour and didn't know which way to go. I think I could hear the squirrel laughing as he watched the cats below bumping into each other as they tried to escape the deluge. If they ever do get a chance to come face to face with that squirrel, he's toast.
Jack pulled a stunner on Rooney a few minutes ago. They were waiting by the back door to go out and Rooney wanted her duck to take with her. Problem was, Jack had it. Now Jack has no more interest in that slimy duck than I do, but just like a kid, the thing someone else wants is so much better when you don't let them have it. We heard a sound that could have been a snarl or a cough - didn't matter - the effect was the same. Rooney jumped back in dismay and ran to her Dad for help. Jack was lying there, near the duck, but not so close that he looked guilty. The Mom in me knew he was. After giving him a stern warning, he forgot about the duck and went out. Rooney, on the other hand, was still in shock. She didn't want to play with her duck anymore and she certainly had no intention of going outside where the old meany was. Dad had to walk out with her as her bodyguard. Hilarious.
According to Andy, Fancy has gotten a little too big for his britches. Translation: Fancy has to inspect everything we bring into the house. Groceries are especially exciting for him. Last night we brought home barbeque chicken and Fancy knew it was for him. Andy knew otherwise and shooed him off the counter. Now, I can stand there flapping my arms and cussing like a sailor, and they all just sit there blinking at me. The kids used to call it my "Donald Duck routine." Nobody budges just because I told them to. All Andy had to do was flick his hand toward him and say, "Fancy! Go!" and Fancy elevated himself a foot off the counter and landed on the other side, pupils dilated and ears back. All I could think of was that it has taken me years to earn this guy's confidence and it has just disappeared with the flick of a wrist. I was not happy.
Fancy would not leave my side after that. He followed me into the bedroom where we laid down on the bed and had a little conversation.
Fancy: "He scared me."
Me: "I know, but he would never hurt you. He doesn't like it when you get into food on the counter."
Fancy: "You always give me stuff."
Me: "I do, but he doesn't like that."
Fancy: "So, you aren't mad at me?"
Me: "No way! I'll tell you what. I'll give you some of my chicken if you promise to stay off the counter. Deal?"
Don't ask me if it was our little talk or he was still afraid of Andy, but Fancy was a perfect gentleman while we ate supper. He sat quietly and patiently away from the table. You better believe he was rewarded with lots of chicken.
Drama happens all around us. It's up to you to decide if it's tragedy or comedy. Or a little of both.
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| Rooney and her duck |
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| Cuddle Duck |
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| I know. Little sisters... |
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| I didn't want your dumb chicken anyway... |
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