Did you ever notice how animals instinctively have the best timing for doing you something?
Last night as we were winding down to sleep, I noticed Sasha watching the various lumps, bumps, and humps moving around under the covers. One of her favorite games is chasing bed mice, so I accomodated her. I was holding up a finger or a thumb and making lumps under the covers and moving them around. Sasha was bouncing and pouncing and having a gay old time.
Patty was responding more and more slowly to queries aimed in her direction, so I decided to include her in our play. The little bed mouse was getting closer and closer to her, and Sasha was playing more and more vigorously.
Enter Willoughby. From the top of the dresser. About five feet away as the cat flies. I noticed him sitting there, eyes wide and bright, tail twitching, but I was concentrating on luring Sasha into pouncing on Patty and had momentarily focussed my attention elsewheres. That was when he landed on Patty, all sixteen pounds of silver tabby.
Patty's comments wouldn't have hurt the sales of a Sunday School textbook too much, although the phrase "full bladder" did creep into her conversation occasionally.
Willoughby ran and hid. Patty made a half-hearted attempt to get up and go drain her radiator but gave it up as too much trouble. Mac watched it all with a big doggy grin; the cats were in trouble again, and that always cheered him up.
I lost track of them for a few minutes. Patty had started to get up, but fell backwards from a sitting position on the side of the bed and was soon asleep with her feet on the floor. Mac went into the back bathroom and was crunching away at his food dish. I had gone into the kitchen to get a snack.
Suddenly there was a commotion in the bathroom, whereupon Willoughby came barrelling through the doorway with Mac in hot pursuit. Willoughby jumped over the bed rail right between Patty's knees and turned hard right. Mac was right behind him, but instead of turning, he landed right square in the middle of the aforementioned bladder. He slammed on his brakes and came to a screeching, tire-smoking halt right in the middle of Patty, who by this time had raised her head so that the next thing Mac became aware of was this pair of bloodshot, glaring eyeballs focussed entirely on him, to the exclusion of all other annoyances.
Later, much later, Patty got up and let Mac out of the bathroom, because his howls were making it difficult for her to sleep. Of course, he got another vigorous dose of negative reinforcement, but he did get to go back to bed.
Interesting night, everything considered.