These furrkids really enjoy nice toys. Just today I picked up one of those sticks with a little bird on a string.
Patty was watching tv when I came in, so I carried my purchases into the kitchen, put everything up but the toy, and came over here to the computer. Patty was sitting on the couch with her back to me. Cherokee was sprawled out next to her, and Samantha was in her lap. Mac was outside somewhere.
After a bit I remembered the toy and reached over the counter and picked it up. Quietly I held the little bird over Patty's head and made it dance. I couldn't see what was going on on her side of the couch, but the next thing I knew Sam was trying to climb Patty's head to get that bird and nearly succeeding. As you can imagine, Patty had no idea what was going on, but from the way she was jumping around and yelling, I gathered she was trying to discourage such unorthodox behaviour on the part of the cat.
I quickly shoved the bird under the couch and ran around to see what I could do to make matters worse. My, she was mad. At Sam. She grumbled and growled (Patty, not Sam) and sat back down, feathers still ruffled. Cherokee just looked alert, but he didn't move. Sam sulked in the corner. Mac looked in the screen door and grinned; he likes it when the cats get in trouble. I went back to the computer.
Directly I looked around, and all was quiet. Slowly I crept over to the back of the couch, retrieved the bird, and dangled it enticingly over Patty's head again. I peered over the back of the couch, and both Cherokee and Sam were watching the bird intently. As I've said before, Cherokee is an elderly, arthritic puss, and Patty is careful not to do anything that might hurt him. So when he started trying to climb her, she gently tried to dissuade him, something that got more and more difficult to do as the cat got more and more frantic trying to get to that bird.
Suddenly Sam launched herself from her recumbent position in the corner, and faster than it takes to tell, leaped from the floor to Patty's stomach and used that as a launching pad to leap over her head and snare the bird in her teeth. She fell on top of Patty still clutching that incriminating bunch of feathers. Mac was barking his brain out, trying to help.
That was when I found myself the focus of Momma's attention. About that time I remembered some urgent business elsewhere. In the bathroom. With the door locked. And a disheveled bird on a stick being vigorously thrust under the door with the clear intent of doing me bodily harm.
When things got quiet and had been for a while, I came out of the bathroom and carefully reconnoitered. I found Patty in the kitchen taping a butcher knife to the end of the stick. I asked her rather nervously what she was going to do with that, and she just smiled.
Did you ever try typing at the keyboard, not knowing how to touch type, while constantly turning to see where somebody might be approaching? Of course, I can pretty much tell where she is by the aroma; her breath smells like brimstone after all the things she said to me earlier.