Hooligan kitty strikes again.
She is usually causing trouble of some sort. Chewing up my blinds. Eating crocs. Jumping up on the table. Having to get part of her intestines removed.
She is also a very social kitty. She likes to be where the people are. She greets you when you walk in the door. She likes to follow you to bed. To the bathroom. To the shower.
So when you are in a room. Alone. For more than a few minutes. You know that something is wrong. She is most likely locked in a closet. Because she stealthily snuck in while you were getting out a towel. Or on quiet kitty tip-toes snuck into the pantry while you were rummaging for a snack. Or in the dark, you didn't notice the gray streak as you attempt to find a pair of jeans from the shelves of your clothes closet.
And off you go. On a quest to find hooligan kitty. Opening all doors. And at the same time trying to make sure that sister of hooligan kitty does not get caught in the same predicament. Often you will open doors and no cat will come charging out. You must actually look on each shelf. Under clothes that are hanging. Behind the cereal boxes. Because the kitty is snoozing. And entertained. Just knowing that are you are trying to find her. She is content to lay quietly in wait. Biding her time. And waiting to stretch out that tell-tale paw till you come looking for a second time. Or a third.
A few weeks ago, hooligan kitty pulled off the disappearing act of the century. She was in the kitchen when I left the house. But when I got home. Only her sister was to be found. I knew immediately something was up. She didn't come when called. She didn't come when I added food to her bowl. She didn't come when I started shaking her noisy toys.
I began my quest. She wasn't in the pantry. In any of the closets. Under the bed. In the bathtub. She was no where.
When Katie got home, I had her help me to look. We looked where I knew she wasn't. We looked where we knew she couldn't be. So, I called the last person that might have seen her. The housekeeper.
Apparently she left me a message that I didn't see. To tell me that hooligan kitty had jumped up on my book cases. These book cases. The ones that are 8 feet tall. Yep. Those.
And then. She jumped behind them. Jumped. Not fell. Jumped. You see. There is a space behind the book cases. The CD shelves don't go all the way to the wall.And Rhonda, our housekeeper, couldn't move the bookcases to save hooligan kitty. She couldn't move them because the bookcases are bolted to the wall. And to each other. Again - because some of them don't actually go to the wall. And that space. It called to Hooligan kitty. And asked her to fill it.
And as I stood in front of these shelves. Talking to Rhonda. And wondering where on earth the screw drivers might be kept. I heard a plaintative meow.
I got Katie started with taking ALL the books off the shelves. While I went to find a screw driver. Both kinds. And a step stool. And then I started unscrewing. And unscrewing. And a little more unscrewing. And then with a little brute force. I moved that book case.
And what to my wandering eye should appear? But a fluffy hooligan kitty. With her tail up. And a sway to her hips. And an "I meant to do that" meow. And after she had said her peace. She turned right back around and settled herself into her new hidey hole. Quite proud. As she thought about her cousin. The cat that swallowed the canary.