The Chase
Well.....Comet is just like that...except without the savant part...and he might be just a tad hairier than Dustin Hoffman, though I do believe they are about the same size.
Most cats are meticulously clean. They will sit tidily several times a day and methodically wash from nose tips to tail tips. Comet, on the other hand prefers to bathe while lying on his back in the empty bathtub, thumping and banging against the sides, legs flailing, twitching and flopping about like a beached manatee in a futile attempt to lick every inch. He rarely succeeds. Although I try to give him a good brushing each day, he still manages to look a bit tatty. Did I mention that he appears to have only one functioning brain cell?
I no longer have any living plants in my home since he came to think of each (yes, even the ones in the hangers) as his own personal swaying Porta-Potty. Speaking of potty habits, (the more squeamish of you may skip to the next paragraph) On rare occasions he will suddenly find himself squatting in a litterbox with absolutely no idea of how or why he went there in the first place, or what he could possibly be doing in there, so he will simply sit down while he tries to remember.
He is big. He is Arnold Schwartzakitty with absolutely no idea of his size, which means that every time he jumps up onto a table, counter, stretches in his sleep or runs through the house, things are bound to fall. It may be a figurine, a jar full of pens, a cup of coffee,
a bowl of soup, a crockpot or breadmaker. Nothing is safe from the path of destruction left in the wake of "The Comet".
Now we come to Oliver.
Oliver is small. His gold and white coat floats about him like a cloud. His is the face of perfection......a Cherub in a furry suit.
What on earth can these two cats have in common?
Oliver adores Comet.
"Unca Comet is my Hero!"
Oliver emulates Comet's every move. He too lies on his back to wash himself, hangs from the plant hangers and wherever Comet may be, you are sure to find his little sidekick...which brings me, at long last, to my story.
Comet loves any opportunity to chase the girls. He does not do it spitefully. It is just so much gosh-darn fun that he just cannot resist.
Of course if Comet does it....Oliver must follow suit.
On this particular day, Emily was the chasee in question. It began in the outdoor catcage. Emily flew in through the bedroom window, followed closely by Comet and the ever-eager Oliver.
"Oooooo! What are we doing Unca Comet? Huh? Huh? Why are we running? Ooooo goodie! Chasey!!"
Emily sprang from the bed and soared down the hallway. Comet and Co. were not far behind.
Allow me, if you will, to interject with a brief description of the layout of the livingroom. On the north wall: Television, bookcases and the entryway to the hall which Emily is rapidly approaching. On the east wall: a small sofa and side tables. On the west wall a larger sofa upon which I am sitting, and a very large dog carrier at the south end of the sofa. OK. Back to our story.
Emily burst into the livingroom, leapt onto the small sofa, ran along its length to the end table, and made a sharp turn to the west. Comet, followed closely by Oliver had reached the sofa and was nearing the end table just as Emily bounded across the room, sprang lightly to the top of the dog carrier and turned to face her attackers.
"Get her Unca Comet!" shrilled Oliver, flushing with the thrill of the chase.
Comet closed half the distance between them just as Emily sat back on her haunches, gopher-like, the look of a true warrior flashing in her eyes. At this point Comet made the only wise decision he has ever made in his life. He slammed on the brakes. Oliver, however, having not assessed the situation, let out a gleeful cry, "I'll get her for you Unca Comet!" sailed past his mentor, launching himself in the direction of the poised warrior.
One-two, one-two! Her claws were a blur. Freddy Kruger unleashed! Oliver never quite made it to the top of the dog carrier. With an astonished cry he twisted in mid-air, executing a near-perfect half-gainer, landing in the center of the room facing me.
Emily left that altercation a little stronger, a little more self-assured.
Comet vacated the room trying to remember if there was something he urgently needed to do at the other end of the hall, and ever since that day the relationship between Comet and Oliver has been just a bit strained.
I, however, shall never forget the sight of Oliver staring at me from the middle of the room with his one good eye, the other clamped tightly shut and tearing, his voice trembling with pain, shock and a touch of rage... "She hit me inna eye! She hit me inna eye!.......
.......SMACK HER!!!!"
