Friday, November 27, 2009

The curious incident of the cat in the shopping bag ...

Today I bought two sweaters from the kind of store where the sales associate clacks away at the cash register on pretty nails before wrapping your purchases in tissue paper, as though the garments are made of glass.

This was not only fun for me, but also for Toonses, whose two favorite things in the world are, in no specific order, shopping bags and women's clothing.

We were in the kitchen when we heard the crackling sound. Something like a roaring bonfire, electrocution, or snowballs being made out of grocery sacks. There was hissing and guttural groans like a train skidding on icy tracks. A deep bass that would render Michael McDonald obsolete. Chuck and I booked into the living room, and caught the freakish 30-pound antisocial fur ball rounding left. Two new shirts in his wake, the bag billowing behind him like a parachute.

Toonses sprinted up the three steps to a room I call "The Shit Closet" the storage area where we keep his litter box, which has the added bonus of a special ledge behind a drape where he does his pubescent sulking. It's where he goes to count the seconds between thunder and lightning, and where he goes when we play music by Velvet Underground.

By the time I caught up to the cat, he was perched on that ledge, and the shopping bag was still attached to him in a way I didn't understand. I moved toward him and tugged on the sack and he bellowed all low and satanic-like. I screamed and backed away. I ran down the steps.

"Can you do it?" I asked Chuck. "I think the handle got looped around his neck."

I cowered into the wall when Chuck went into The Shit Closet and performed the shopping bag removal.

I'm not sure what I thought Toonses was going to do to me. He doesn't have claws and with that gut, he can't jump very high. He's never developed a taste for human flesh.

"You looked like you were going to cry," Chuck said.
Hogwash. But I was totally freaked out.

Later I checked on Toonsie in The Shit Closet. He hissed like a crabby old lady and threw me a glassy-eyed glare. And when I later moved the shopping bag to a new, higher location, he stood at attention until Chuck pet him -- which Toonses recognizes as a rare treat.

Toonses seems to blame me for the entire incident. He's been pretty skittish all night. I'm not sure what will happen when I wear one of those shirts. He's so moody like that.


Sproactually said...

I think someone forgot to give Toonses his addrall and he is having a psychotic event.

chuck said...

I have never heard a sound like that cat made. It was like something out of a horror movie.

Futbol said...

i'd pay someone to do a scientific study on the effect of lou reed on the cat population.