by Dena Harris
“I miss our life before cats,” he said.
He has a point. It was nice when we had some say so over the ajar status of doors in our home. Still, even with all the bother, it’s nice knowing you are so important to someone that every minute apart counts.
“Mrow?”
Yes, I’ll be out soon.
-19-
Tacky Tape Sucks &
Other Reasons I Can’t Own Nice Furniture
Tacky Tape. Transparent, thin pieces of what is essentially two-sided tape which may be applied directly to fabric to keep cats from using furniture as sharpening posts.
In bold letters on the package front it advertises that Tacky Tape “STOPS CATS FROM DESTROYING FURNITURE.”
Right.
After spending twenty minutes removing the individual Tacky Tape strips from their brown base sheet and positioning the sticky side down on my furniture, then cracking and peeling the white application paper on top to reveal the exterior sticky side (Apparently you must have some sort of science degree to properly mount your Tacky Tape. Liberal Arts majors beware), I managed to end up surrounded by twenty balled up wads of Tacky Tape.
Miraculously, I managed to apply the last two strips to our twin library chairs where our cats love to sharpen their claws.
The idea of Tacky Tape is that when your cat reaches up to claw the chair their paw will stick to the tape. They will not enjoy this sensation and will be cured for life from any lingering desire to use said chair for sharpening their claws.
You betcha.
It almost worked on the kitten. She walked up to the tape and gave a hesitant sniff. She sat by the corner of the chair, unsure how to proceed. The cat had no such qualms.
She marched up to the Tacky Tape and batted at it. This slight motion knocked half the Tacky Tape off the chair, so it was now fluttering like a banner in the wind. The cat went in for the kill, grabbed the fluttering end of the tape in her mouth and pulled the Tacky Tape (“STOPS CATS FROM DESTROYING
FURNITURE”) off the chair and onto the floor where she proceeded to make origami animals out of it.
We gave up on the Tacky Tape. (I was still incensed about the swan the cat made from the last ball of tape.) We had other things to worry about. Namely, our upcoming meeting with the designer who was to help us select fabric for our new couch.
The meeting started on a positive note. We explained to the designer we were looking for a couch that was both casual and elegant, something you’d feel comfortable lying on to watch TV or inviting guests to sit on. We spoke in hushed, modulated tones, and the designer nodded 113 approvingly and said she had several beautiful fabrics she thought would meet our needs.
She brought the first one out and my husband and I exchanged a troubled glance. It was a weave pattern with tiny threads in crisscross stitches just begging to be plucked apart by sharp kitty claws. We exclaimed over the beauty of the fabric but said it wasn’t quite what we were looking for.
No problem, said the designer. She returned with a stunning floral fabric of silk brocade flowers. She was raving about the timeless statement of classic elegance such a fabric boasted when I interrupted.
“Um, I don’t think that’s for us.”
The designer kept her smile in place. “And why not?”
I gave a nervous laugh and looked at my husband who shrugged. “Well, you see, our cats would destroy the threads in those flowers before we even got the plastic off the couch.”
“Ah, I see,” said the designer, never losing her smile.
“Well, we have many different fabrics so I’m sure we’ll find the right one for you.”
Two hours and fifty fabric samples later we left the designer in a sobbing huddled mass in the corner of her store. We had categorically rejected every piece she brought out. Too woven, too many threads, too much fringe, no tassels allowed, dark colors show cat hair. I knew it was time to leave when the designer presented us with a piece of burlap and wished us the best of luck.
So we sit at home and dream about the day when we’ll be able to pick out furniture we actually like and not furniture designed to withstand World War III. Until then, we’re taking the advice of designers everywhere and using accent pieces to try and dress up the house.
The Tacky Tape swan, in particular we feel, lends a touch of elegance to our home.
-20-
Morning Revelry
My husband and I consider ourselves adults. We hold jobs, pay bills, and brush regularly. Yet every morning at five AM we are forced to feign death in the hopes of catching just a little more shut-eye. Basically, we’re two thirty-five year olds playing possum.
We lay side-by-side in bed, motionless, feigning deepsleep breathing. Aware that each other is awake, but neither willing to admit it, we are careful not to roll over, cough, or show any sign of life.
The reason for us lying statue-like is a small, furry creature perched on a chair across from our bed, right under the windows. It is our kitten, who has decided she is hungry.
She knows food is forthcoming only after one of the large two-legged creatures she lives with gets out of bed. Therefore, she is on a mission.
“Mrow,” she says.
It’s crucial not to be the first to move. The bed is soft and warm, the stakes are high. We make little smacking sounds with our lips, trying to convince the other we are really asleep.
The kitten hops off the chair, crosses the floor, and leaps onto the bed, which is to my advantage. I love the feel of a small cat crawling over me. My husband, on the other hand, does not.
She purrs around our heads, encouraging us to wake up. I don’t move. I feel my husband clench and unclench his fists. Sitting up, he deposits the kitten on the floor. He punches his pillow and quickly lies back down.
Wife – 1, Husband – 0.
Having seen signs of life, the kitten is encouraged. She hops back up on the chair and starts batting the wooden window blinds against the glass. The bedroom vibrates with the reverberations.
After a few minutes of the wooden blind death rattle, the kitten appears to have given up. There is silence. We both relax and start to drift back into real sleep.
“Ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching.” She’s back, having located her jingle ball and nudged it into our bedroom. She is now under our bed, racing in circles as she chases it around.
“Ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching.”
I bite my lip and taste the sweat there. She’s good.
The noise of the jingle ball has brought the cat on the run. She’s constantly afraid we’re playing with the kitten and forgetting to include her. She breathes a sigh of relief when she sees the kitten playing solo and two lumps still tucked 117 in bed. Unfortunately, seeing us tucked in and comfortable reminds her she’s hungry too, and the cats decide to doubleteam us.
The cat takes over jingle ball duties (ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching), while the kitten hops back up to the blinds. (Rattle rattle. Rattle rattle.)
The bedroom is a cacophony of noise: Ka-ching, rattlerattle, ka-ching, rattle rattle. Ka-ching, rattle, ka-ching, rattle.
I can’t stand it any more. “Shut up!” I yell at the cats.
My husband’s voice comes muffled from under the covers.
“You spoke first. You lose. Go feed them so I can get some sleep.”
I rip the covers off him. I am not in the best of humor in the mornings, especially at five AM.
“You were the one who sat up and put the kitten on the floor so technically you were awake first and you should be the one to get up.”
“If you heard me put the kitten on the floor that means you were awake and just pretending to be asleep, which is a terrible thing to do, so you should be the one to get up.”
“No, you.”
“No, you.”
“Mrow-rowr!!” wail both cats. They pick up the pace.
Ka-ching-rattle, ka-ching-rattle.
I hold my hands over my ears and glare at my husband.
“Get up.”
He pulls the covers up and rolls over. “Eat dirt.”
I lay back down. “If you’re not getting up, I’m not getting up.”
We lie in bed and glare at the ceiling. There is no hope of either of us getting any more sleep.
I turn my head and look at my husband. “Together on the count of three?”
He nods.
“One…”
We roll the covers back.
“Two…”
We both put a foot on the floor and look suspiciously at one another.
“Three!” He stands up and I fling myself back into bed.
Wife - 2, Husband – 0.
An hour later guilt overtakes me and I pad out to the kitchen where he is sitting and put my arms around him, kissing the top of his head.
“How about if I promise to be the one to get up and feed the cats tomorrow?” I ask.
“That’s what you said yesterday.”
I sigh. He’s right. My intentions are good, but when it’s 5 AM and cold and dark outside the warmth of the bed, I know I will once again feign death in the hopes he’ll get up first. And he’ll do the same.
But we are united on one front.
The cats are comatose on the couch, satiated and asleep.
We sneak up behind them and on the count of three I rattle the blinds while he wings a jingle ball along the floor.
The cats hit the ceiling.
That’s right, baby. Score one for the humans.
The End
Credits
Feline Concerns first appeared in I Love Cats! Magazine http://www.iluvcats.com.
Lessons In Stalking first appeared in the ASPCA Animal Watch newsletter.
Kitty Jihad, Dibbs!, Never Feed A Cat Grape Benadryl®, The Creature Under the Fridge, Morning Revelry, Kitty Nightingales, El Toro Gato, Yoga Cat, The Great Cat Butt Wiping Adventure and The Big Brown Mouse & Other Toys Our Cat Loathes all originally appeared in Cats & Kittens http://www.catsandkittens.com magazine.
If you’d like more information (and photos!) on the cat, the kitten, and the inside story on Lessons In Stalking, please visit us at http://www.lessonsinstalking.com.
Afterword
Toward the completion of this book my cover and interior layout designer, Robert Howard, suggested it would be a nice touch to include a “family portrait” of my husband, myself, and our two cats at the back of the book.
“Did you read my book?” I asked. “Were there any stories in there that might lead you to believe such an undertaking is even remotely possible?”
“Try anyway,” came the reply. And so, risking life and limb, we did.
You see the results below. We never actually managed to get all four of us in the room at the same time. In a rare show of unity, one cat would distract us while the other made her getaway. After an hour of this we decided one photo each of me with the cats would suffice. To clue you in to how that process went, what you are seeing here is the best of the best—me holding Lucy captive against the floor as I lay on her and Olivia looking anxiously at the floor, planning her escape. Blair, my husband, remains in safe (and, one might add, unscratched) anonymity behind the camera lens.
Robert's only comment was "Next time try Tuna Fish on your breath.”
About the Author
Dena Harris is a humorist and freelance writer published in newspapers, magazines, and web sites around the country. Publication credits include Chicken Soup for the Cat Lover’s Soul, Cats & Kittens magazine, I Love Cats!, Puppies USA, Writer’s Digest, The Toastmaster, Art Jewelry, Self-Publishing Essentials, and more.
She teaches seminars and workshops in public speaking, networking, and writing for magazines. Her next book, Scared Speechless: Public Speaking Tips For The Occasional Speaker, will be available in 2006.
Raised in Ohio, she now lives with her husband and two cats in rural North Carolina and is constantly trying to figure out how to bring a third cat into the home without her husband’s knowledge.
She is a member of the Cat Writer’s Association (CWA), the Society for Children’s Books Writers and Illustrators (SCBWI), the Writer’s Group of the Triad, and way too many book clubs. For information on her upcoming books and workshops, please visit http://www.denaharris.com.
About the Illustrator
Linda Santell is a digital artist, designer and illustrator. She lives in the historic district of a small town in rural North Carolina, where her studio is also located.
The slow, quiet environment serves as a great balance to her whirring, creative spirit.
Linda specializes in creating completely custom images, designs and illustrations.
Her work is original and contemporary. She works equally well in color and black and white.
Her client base is primarily creative, entrepreneurial women—an eclectic mix of writers, small business owners and non-profits. She delights in supporting them in designing their dreams.
Illustration is Linda’s second career, but her first love. Art became her fulltime focus in 2000. Her projects range from book illustration to logo design, custom invitations to pet portraits and beyond.
Linda finds great joy in creating her own art, which often takes the form of colorful and whimsical illustrations with supportive messages for women. These illustrations have become the basis for her Whimsical Wisdom® line of womencentered art and products.
To learn more about Linda, her art and creative services, visit her at http://www.lindasantell.com or her sister site http://www.enrichingearth.com.
Order Form for Lessons in Stalking
If you would like extra copies of Lessons in Stalking, you can order on-line at www.lessonsinstalking.com (credit card payments available) or use this order form.
For quantity orders (10+) please call 206-203-1154 or e-mail us at [email protected].
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Ready for more of the cat and kitten?
Then be the first in line for the hilarious sequel:
Do You Live Here Too?
More Life With Cats
Including the stories:
• Kiss my Kitty Butt • Bug Patrol • Let Me At The Twittering Things • Thy Vacuum Is Mine Enemy • Kitty Stand Off at the O-Cat Corral
To place your name on the pre-publication mailing list (no obligation to order, you’ll simply receive an e-mail when the book is available for purchase), please send an e-mail to: [email protected] with the SUBJECT heading: More Life With Cats
Table of Contents
LESSONS IN STALKING
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