Monday, September 13, 2004

A late-night scolding 

I was awakened at 4:45 this morning by the sound of a cat yowling in the house. Paul was getting out of bed as I woke up. The sounds continued, each yyeeoooowwrrr louder, more drawn out and more plaintive than the last. These were not it's-morning-servants-you-shall-bring-me-food sounds; it sounded like someone was hurt.

I was a few steps behind Paul as he left our bedroom. We were calling to the cats; the horrible sounds continued. Paul reached the head of the stairs, then stopped short, laughing. On the landing halfway down the stairs was the cats' newest toy, the hexapus. (It's a rabbit fur toy, and would be an octopus but that it has only six arms. It came that way. Given some time with our cats, however, it will become a pentapus, then a quadrapus, etc.) A few inches away sat Lyra, pretty as a picture, staring intently at it and yowling her little head off. She wanted it to run, or play, or just do something! Naughty toy! she yowled. Bad, lazy, stupid hexapus! The boy cats were watching to see if her scolding could, perhaps, convince the damn toy to move already. The hexapus wasn't going anywhere.

Our laughter startled the cats; they skittered down the rest of the stairs and out of sight. I picked up the very naughty hexapus, and found it a safe, quiet place for the rest of the night.