2018-10-12 / Commentary

Cat Naps

I’m just saying...
Julia Rogers Hook

I tried to tell my husband Marty he was making a mistake but…he just wouldn’t listen.

If you’ve been reading this column, you know we have had a major renovation at our house. On top of tearing down walls and such, just for giggles, we decided to put in new carpet upstairs.

Getting new carpet is a MAJOR undertaking… everything has to be moved…EVERYTHING! Beds have to be torn apart and reassembled, every stick of furniture has to be removed and after the carpet is in, returned back again. It’s basically like moving without leaving your current home.

Luckily for me, the carpet people were coming on the same day my girlfriend and I were scheduled to leave for our annual New York trip. As we were taking off in a big plane, the carpet people were descending on our home and that was just swell with me. I did feel a twinge of guilt for leaving all this in Marty’s hands but…it was a fleeting twinge at best.

My major worry while I was out of town was during our renovation we had also acquired a new kitten, Copper and a sweet little dog, Charlie. I knew Charlie was in good hands as my neighbor was going to be keeping him but the cats worried me, especially Copper. She’s a former feral and I’m really the only human she had let near her. Couple that with the fact the two older cats, Scrappy and Molly, weren’t exactly thrilled with Copper’s arrival, and add in all the workers in and out of the house and you can see why I was nervous for her. Kittens like to play and Copper is nothing if not playful…in fact, she could border on “wild” at times. But the N.Y. plans had been made months earlier and everything was prepaid so I hoped for the best and kissed my fur babies goodbye for the week.

When I called him from New York that evening, Marty announced the new carpet looked beautiful but the house was in total disarray and he wasn’t sure how to fix it. I assured him he could just leave the house as it was and I would take care of it when I got home. I told him where the sheets were for our bed so he could put them on and have a place to sleep and figured everything else could wait until my return.

“I’m not going to sleep in the bed,” Marty said to me. “I’ll just sleep on the couch downstairs.”

I KNEW immediately that was a bad idea.

“That’s really not a great idea Marty…Copper sleeps downstairs and she can get pretty wild at night...”

“Oh it’ll be fine Julia. She can sleep with me. Molly and Scrappy are already upstairs on the bed so I’ll just grab a quilt and sleep with Copper.”

“Marty…that’s REEEEAAALLLLY a bad idea…I’m telling you…she likes to roam and run and play at night. I’ve slept with her and she’s crazy wild.”

“It’ll be fine. I love you. Bye.”

Well FINE, I thought to myself. The next day, I called him to say good morning. From the instant he answered the phone, I knew he had had a bad night.

“Hello.” His voice was gravelly and his tone was abrupt.

“Good Morning Sunshine…how’s your day?” I put a little lilt in my voice.

“That Copper cat is INSANE Julia…I mean certifiably INNNNNSAAAANE!”

I stifled my chuckle and asked him what happened.

“That damned cat ran around ALL NIGHT LONG! She jogged, she sprinted, she jumped on me, she even SCRATCHED me and BIT MY TOES!!!!” (These are not his real words. Those are unprintable.)

“Well Marty I did warn you,” I was having trouble talking and breathing because I was trying so hard not to laugh in his ear. “She can be a little wild.”

“WARN me? You told me she was wild…you didn’t tell me SHE WAS CRAZY! I mean CRAAAZZZZY!”

Ostensibly, as I pieced together his expletives and insults, Copper started off sleeping with him but then sort of got her second wind about midnight. That’s when she wanted to play and what better playmate than her “daddy” as he slept?

She began to play with her toys which all either squeak or have bells or make some sort of noise. According to Marty, she would toss them into the air in his direction and then when they landed on his lap, head, stomach, or wherever, she would then pounce on them, startling him awake. Apparently, for a four-pound kitty, she packed a lot of punch when she landed in his groin area, extended her claws to grab the toy, and then missed which resulted in her injecting her claws into some of his most “tender” areas.

“I have SCRATCHES JULIA….SCRATCHES in places that should NEVER BE SCRATCHED!!!”

“Marty you didn’t hurt her did you?” He sounded pretty mad and if he was half asleep…I had to know.

“NOOOO I didn’t hurt HER…SHE hurt ME!”

It was a long, salty conversation peppered with some pretty colorful language before I could calm him down but when I had my neighbor check later that day…the sheets were back on the bed.

Men just never listen.

I’m just saying...

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