Monday, July 31, 2006


Our little black cat Gracie has turned into a minor celebrity, based on my e-mail today. Some of you are claiming that, in fact, she's normal size, and we are actually a race of giants with the last name of Brobdignagian.

If you've never had a cat as a pet, here's all you need to know: every cat is a unique collection of compulsions and phobias. That's a cat.

Here's Gracie's list, and she must do all of these things every single time the situation arises:
--whenever Eli gets a toy with a clear pastic panel on the packaging, Gracie must scratch it at least a hundred times as fast as she possibly can.
--if you throw a piece of ice into the sink, Gracie will immediately leap onto the counter and stare at the ice.
--Gracie must knock everything off every surface. Pencils, photographs, watches--it's all got to go. And she has a very careful, methodical technique, gently pawing at something until she calculates exactly how much force it takes to send it to the floor.
--if you come in from the swimming pool, Gracie will smell the chlorine and begin to bite your toes.

Here's how cats spend their day: sixteen hours sleeping, two hours eating, and the remaining six trying to figure out how to kill you. It's nothing personal, so don't take it that way when your cat cuts across your path at high speed when you're walking down the stairs.

They won't cut you off when you're going up the stairs, mind you.

Site Meter