Things He's Eaten
One Friday I treated myself to a box of soft-baked blueberry snack bars from a local store. I brought them home along with many other groceries, opened one bar (each was wrapped in a foil-type paper) and ate it in front of Speckles. I even shared a bite with him, since he loves fruit.
He watched me place the box of bars in a dish drainer basket on the sink – way at the back, out of his paw and nose reach. He watched me eat two more over the next day and each time, place the box back in the drainer basket.
One day I took a bar out of the box and did not share it with him. Instead, I packed the bar up with other items I needed to take with me in my car that afternoon.
When I returned home, the scene I found was impressive, so impressive that I stood for several minutes examining the evidence.
I knew a mess waited for me when Speckles met me at the back door as I arrived. He usually makes his getaway quick when he’s tore something up, ate something or pottied on the kitchen floor. That day, he nearly knocked me down trying to get out the door.
The remaining blueberry bars had all been removed from the box and carefully pulled from each individual foil pouch. Somehow, with his large paws and teeth he pulled the seam on each packet along the entire length until the bars were exposed. Not one piece of paper or foil was found. Just perfectly torn pouches.
Nearly every crumb was consumed, except a few pieces that blended in with the dark linoleum on my kitchen floor. Those bits of evidence he stepped on and squished into the floor.
At that point in Speckles’ life, I had been writing down all the things he had strategically "gotten into" over the years and ate off the kitchen sink. That list, below, excludes the many times he was able to hop up and down like a child while placing his front paws and legs on the sink surface and reach the cat’s dry food bowl. With enough hopping and grunting he was able to tip the bowl, dispense all the crunchies and lick them up.
The list of what Speckles had eaten over the years included:
1 raw steak left in aluminum foil on the stove, in preparation for cooking
12 marshmallow Peeps in the shape of bunnies, followed that same year by ...
6 marshmallow Peeps in the shape of gingerbread men
20 small peat pots I planned to plant seeds in
1 box of instant potatoes
1 loaf of bread, followed by half of a loaf at a later date
4 English muffins
5 blueberry bagels
1 packet of flavored instant rice mix
1 packet of flavored fettuccine Alfredo noodle mix
1 small packet of Gummi Bears
1 package of Chips Ahoy (extra chocolate chunk) cookies.
With a taste for fruit and vegetables, Speckles has pretty much prohibited me from growing vegetables in the backyard.
I often find him sticking his nose into grapevines along the fence and pulling ripe grapes from the vines. He also watches me pick red raspberries and licks his lips waiting to sample one.
This year I grew one tomato plant in a pot on my patio. I staked the plant up straight and watched it flourish, producing little green tomatoes. The first one turned ripe late in the season and I picked it – a perfectly round tomato the size of a baseball. I placed it on a lawn chair by my back door and went back to do some other gardening.
Something made me look up from my chores to see Speckles standing across the yard with something red sticking out of his mouth. He saw me look at him and he froze, the kind of reaction he has when he wants to tease me and run away.
"What do you have in your mouth?" I asked him.
When I started walking towards him, Speckles jumped and quickly consumed my tomato, stem and all.
I watched two other green baby tomatoes on the plant and hoped they would mature. One day Speckles was nosing around the plant, sniffing the stem and ripening fruit. I scolded him and he ran.
The next day, my two green tomatoes were gone, picked perfectly clean from their stem.
I know who was to blame.
He watched me place the box of bars in a dish drainer basket on the sink – way at the back, out of his paw and nose reach. He watched me eat two more over the next day and each time, place the box back in the drainer basket.
One day I took a bar out of the box and did not share it with him. Instead, I packed the bar up with other items I needed to take with me in my car that afternoon.
When I returned home, the scene I found was impressive, so impressive that I stood for several minutes examining the evidence.
I knew a mess waited for me when Speckles met me at the back door as I arrived. He usually makes his getaway quick when he’s tore something up, ate something or pottied on the kitchen floor. That day, he nearly knocked me down trying to get out the door.
The remaining blueberry bars had all been removed from the box and carefully pulled from each individual foil pouch. Somehow, with his large paws and teeth he pulled the seam on each packet along the entire length until the bars were exposed. Not one piece of paper or foil was found. Just perfectly torn pouches.
Nearly every crumb was consumed, except a few pieces that blended in with the dark linoleum on my kitchen floor. Those bits of evidence he stepped on and squished into the floor.
At that point in Speckles’ life, I had been writing down all the things he had strategically "gotten into" over the years and ate off the kitchen sink. That list, below, excludes the many times he was able to hop up and down like a child while placing his front paws and legs on the sink surface and reach the cat’s dry food bowl. With enough hopping and grunting he was able to tip the bowl, dispense all the crunchies and lick them up.
The list of what Speckles had eaten over the years included:
1 raw steak left in aluminum foil on the stove, in preparation for cooking
12 marshmallow Peeps in the shape of bunnies, followed that same year by ...
6 marshmallow Peeps in the shape of gingerbread men
20 small peat pots I planned to plant seeds in
1 box of instant potatoes
1 loaf of bread, followed by half of a loaf at a later date
4 English muffins
5 blueberry bagels
1 packet of flavored instant rice mix
1 packet of flavored fettuccine Alfredo noodle mix
1 small packet of Gummi Bears
1 package of Chips Ahoy (extra chocolate chunk) cookies.
With a taste for fruit and vegetables, Speckles has pretty much prohibited me from growing vegetables in the backyard.
I often find him sticking his nose into grapevines along the fence and pulling ripe grapes from the vines. He also watches me pick red raspberries and licks his lips waiting to sample one.
This year I grew one tomato plant in a pot on my patio. I staked the plant up straight and watched it flourish, producing little green tomatoes. The first one turned ripe late in the season and I picked it – a perfectly round tomato the size of a baseball. I placed it on a lawn chair by my back door and went back to do some other gardening.
Something made me look up from my chores to see Speckles standing across the yard with something red sticking out of his mouth. He saw me look at him and he froze, the kind of reaction he has when he wants to tease me and run away.
"What do you have in your mouth?" I asked him.
When I started walking towards him, Speckles jumped and quickly consumed my tomato, stem and all.
I watched two other green baby tomatoes on the plant and hoped they would mature. One day Speckles was nosing around the plant, sniffing the stem and ripening fruit. I scolded him and he ran.
The next day, my two green tomatoes were gone, picked perfectly clean from their stem.
I know who was to blame.
Open Door Policy
Since I live alone, well - with my pets, I have a habit of not closing my bathroom door while I’m in bathroom taking care of business.
I tried a few times to close the door behind me, but little paws instantly poke under the bottom crack of the door, persistently scratch on the door, claw at the carpet outside of the door or attempt to pull open the door from the bottom by grabbing it with claws.
For some reason, what I might be doing behind that closed door for a couple of minutes puts my pets into separation anxiety. So, I instilled an open-door policy between us.
Maybe they’re so persistent because I seldom sit still for very long. When I’m in "down time," my pets seek me out for affection no matter where I am.
The thing is, I have four cats and one 60-pound dog and a bathroom barely big enough for one adult to turn around in. When they all pack the room with me, personalities start to conflict and paws sometimes start flying with swats at their brothers and sisters. The whole time, I’m pretty much confined to my porcelain throne in one corner, waiting for the conflict to end.
It’s not uncommon at one time to find Joan sitting in the bathtub watching me, Desdemona sitting on a rug beside Speckles who is leaning against my legs, Jack perched on the sink waiting for a drink of running water and C.D. examining us from the doorway wondering how she can get closer to me without being stepped on or swatted in the face.
When I stand up, they all take off out of the room, growling at each other, jumping over each other and so forth.
Several times I have just lightly pushed the door shut in an effort to keep warmth in the room while I showered. I inevitably find a little black-and-white nose poking through the door crack, then a head emerges and a body. Then the door stands open a couple of feet again.
I find that this desire by my pets to see what I’m doing behind closed doors applies to just about every room in our home. They may miss out on some stimulating activity and a pat on the head from their mom.
So, you see if I don’t leave my bathroom door open once they all enter the room, it would be like tossing me into pool of piranhas. At least with an open door, we can all escape freely if conflict arises.
I tried a few times to close the door behind me, but little paws instantly poke under the bottom crack of the door, persistently scratch on the door, claw at the carpet outside of the door or attempt to pull open the door from the bottom by grabbing it with claws.
For some reason, what I might be doing behind that closed door for a couple of minutes puts my pets into separation anxiety. So, I instilled an open-door policy between us.
Maybe they’re so persistent because I seldom sit still for very long. When I’m in "down time," my pets seek me out for affection no matter where I am.
The thing is, I have four cats and one 60-pound dog and a bathroom barely big enough for one adult to turn around in. When they all pack the room with me, personalities start to conflict and paws sometimes start flying with swats at their brothers and sisters. The whole time, I’m pretty much confined to my porcelain throne in one corner, waiting for the conflict to end.
It’s not uncommon at one time to find Joan sitting in the bathtub watching me, Desdemona sitting on a rug beside Speckles who is leaning against my legs, Jack perched on the sink waiting for a drink of running water and C.D. examining us from the doorway wondering how she can get closer to me without being stepped on or swatted in the face.
When I stand up, they all take off out of the room, growling at each other, jumping over each other and so forth.
Several times I have just lightly pushed the door shut in an effort to keep warmth in the room while I showered. I inevitably find a little black-and-white nose poking through the door crack, then a head emerges and a body. Then the door stands open a couple of feet again.
I find that this desire by my pets to see what I’m doing behind closed doors applies to just about every room in our home. They may miss out on some stimulating activity and a pat on the head from their mom.
So, you see if I don’t leave my bathroom door open once they all enter the room, it would be like tossing me into pool of piranhas. At least with an open door, we can all escape freely if conflict arises.
Valuable Lessons
Some valuable lessons my kitten, Joan, has learned:
It is easy to slide into the bathtub, but not as easy to get back out.
Birdbaths have water in them.
I can bite the dog’s cheeks and ankles, but not mommy’s.
Ear lobes are not nipples.
My nose fits well into mommy’s nostrils.
Frosted Flakes and milk to me are like cake and ice cream to mommy.
My back legs can propel me faster than the front ones.
A tail is a fascinating appendage.
Drops of water from the bathroom faucet are never dull to watch.
I can chew on mommy’s fuzzy slippers, but not her toes.
Legs are not tree trunks.
Ants will grab on to your nose if you sniff them.
Hair makes good nesting material.
It is easy to slide into the bathtub, but not as easy to get back out.
Birdbaths have water in them.
I can bite the dog’s cheeks and ankles, but not mommy’s.
Ear lobes are not nipples.
My nose fits well into mommy’s nostrils.
Frosted Flakes and milk to me are like cake and ice cream to mommy.
My back legs can propel me faster than the front ones.
A tail is a fascinating appendage.
Drops of water from the bathroom faucet are never dull to watch.
I can chew on mommy’s fuzzy slippers, but not her toes.
Legs are not tree trunks.
Ants will grab on to your nose if you sniff them.
Hair makes good nesting material.