This morning, while Scott was eating his breakfast, I opened up an paper shopping bag that I was willing to part with and laid it on the floor for the cats to play in. And they certainly did. They have a game, with definite rules, about how to play with bags. One will go inside while the other pounces on the bag and they wrestle through the bag. Then the first one will come out, they trade places and the fun begins again. Scott and I laughed and laughed at them and I can think of worse ways to start the day than laughing at the antics of two silly kittens playing.
After Scott left, I went upstairs to take my shower and get ready for work. Once I was ready, I came downstairs and was immediately met by Pete but not Dylan. I wasn’t terribly surprised because Dylan often gets caught up with watching activities outside windows and doesn’t come when called. What surprised me was that the bag was missing, too.
One trick to get either cat running from wherever they are in the house is to rattle the treat bag. So, I did and dumped some out for Pete. Still no Dylan. Okay, that worried me because that tubby boy never misses out on a chance for a treat. So I started calling and looking for him. I looked under the stainless steel dye table, under looms, in favorite windows, under shelving units, in on the loveseat (their favorite nap time spot), but still no Dylan. I did find the bag, though, or what was left of it, anyway. Those boys are rough on a paper bag.
Still, I was calling Dylan, checking behind closed doors, even though there was really no way he could have gotten the doors opened and closed again by himself. So, I went back into the room where the mauled bag was and there Dylan was, barely peeking out from under the loveseat looking very abashed. So I called to him, and he came out just enough for me to see that the one of the handles from the bag was around his middle and that he was dragging a largish piece of the bag with him. That had never happened before. His chubby tummy got stuck in the handle and it had ripped off rather than him just stepping out of it.
Poor Dylan! I could tell he was very embarrassed to be caught in such a situation, so I did not laugh at him, but just knelt down and gentle extricated him from his paper belt. Then I loved on him and told him what a special kitty he was. He purred and seemed really grateful that his embarrassing situation was over. Both he and Pete walked me to the back door and I said goodbye to them as I left.
I saved my laughter for when I was out of the driveway and there was no way Dylan could see or hear me, but laugh I did. In fact, I had to get out a napkin from my door pocket to wipe away the tears because it was hard to see to drive I was laughing so hard. Poor Dylan. I have never seen an embarrassed cat before.