Once upon a time, Corky was quiet as a little grey mouse. He was regularly beaten up by his big brother Pepe, and only after lots of provocation did he tackle his brother and end the torment…at least for a short time. When he came to live here, he more or less abandoned his quiet mousy ways and has proven to be quite vocal and have quite the temper when he doesn’t get what he wants from the dim-witted human. Take the other day for example.
We start the morning with kitty breakfast in the kitchen. The cellar door is usually shut and off limits. The house has a 165-year-old hand-laid up stone foundation that is damp and smelly and houses some bodaciously large spiders. It is not a pleasant place for the human, but seems to be a source of great interest and exploration for the 4-legged masters. Hence there is always a battle of wills going on over whether the small cats can convince the tall human to open the door and let them have a kitty adventure. To reinforce their point, they like to push on the old cellar door, which moves beyond the point it should and then slams back in place. They’ve learned the human hates it when they rattle the door, so of course 3 or 4 of them line up regularly and head butt and sometimes body slam the door. The human tries ineffectually to put up barriers of chairs and boxes. Sometimes these slow the cats down for a bit but more often than not the weak-willed human eventually condescends to open the door. Life is just easier that way. Who can win against one cat let alone and against 5? Forget it! Were the human wise, she’d just leave the door open, but remember the damp smell and the big spiders? So she likes to close the door. Of course, no sooner do the meows descend the stairs than at least one of them wants back up again. (The head butting, body slamming works just as well from the other side of the door. And so do plaintive cries.)
So, we start the day with the usual banging and clanging on the cellar door. The human, who knows she has a lunch meeting glances at the clock. Can we go through several rounds of up and down the stairs before she has to leave? She gives in and lets 3 of them down the stairs. Up and down the stairs they go off and on for an hour or more. Before the human has to leave, she calls the crew up and gets 2 of them upstairs. She runs to lunch, then back to a busy afternoon at work that extends late into the evening. Finally, she knocks off and leaves the keyboard at 9:40 pm. She feeds the crew in the kitchen, then goes upstairs to give them their evening snacks. While not everyone comes down for dinner all the time, usually everyone lines up and cries plaintively for their freeze-dried raw meat snacks before bedtime. She does the kitty count and comes up short. She runs down to the first floor, opens back up the door to the screened-in porch, and turns on the light and goes looking for Corky. Not out there. Argh, he must still be in the basement, so off she goes to try that location. Sure enough, up he comes complaining loudly. He’s missed meals and he’s not happy. He gets his snack, he gets soft food left over from the first feeding downstairs, he gets pets and hugs and apologies. He is not placated.
He continues to yowl and complain off and on for the next few hours. His sister is up in the kitty bed at the window overlooking the driveway and he wants to be there. He doesn’t want to share, even though she would likely move over to accommodate him if he jumped in with her. She refuses to leave, despite his many visits and complaints. Finally, the human who is sick and tired of being woken up gets up and moves her to another kitty bed. He disappears and doesn’t jump up to the vacated bed. Miss Macaroni soon goes back to her spot. Up he comes again and again to complain that she’s in the bed he wants. The human gets up again and picks her up and moves her elsewhere. This time she goes and retrieves Mr. Complaints and puts him in the kitty bed he so surely wants. He jumps down and cannot be coaxed back up.
The human tosses and turns. Suddenly, around 5 am she hears the terrible splashing sound that signifies that the Plesiosaurus is at the water bowl tossing water on the floor….except the Water Monster is curled up against the human in bed. The human sits up and looks. Sure enough, Cranky Corky is the culprit. That means that the Merkitty has an understudy. No wonder there are so many floods in this house.
(c) Copyright 2015, PeggyMalnati. All rights reserved. Photos my own.