Feline Mafia

I stumbled onto the activities of the mob in my household quite by accident. I'm sure this is the same way everyone does. Prior to this, I had been blissfully ignorant of the undercurrent of violence that existed around me. There had just been the regular, everyday violence common to homes filled with cats. The chasing. The knocking things over. The hissing and growling and occasional full-out howl of displeasure. This stuff was normal and could be ignored. (More or less. It's hard to ignore a cat in full voice when it's interrupting your sleep or your favorite TV show, but it can be done with practice.) But I made a shocking discovery one morning, and I'm afraid my view of my home will never be the same.

It started normally enough. I had just crawled out of bed. It was late morning as it was my day off and I like to sleep in sometimes. OK, a lot. I don't do mornings well, and I was still in that bleary, "give me about 15 minutes and I'll feel more human" stage. On the second pass through the kitchen, (the first is to feed the cats, the second is to feed myself) I noticed something odd: Stripe and Stinker sitting facing each other on opposite sides of the heating vent, and staring at me. Not odd that these two cats should be together. They get along with each other and no one else, really. But odd that they were sitting in that position. Odd that they were staring at me. And odd that there was food and Stripe, the fat cat, was not eating. I chalked it up to, "Cats. Go Figure." and went about my business.

About ten minutes later, I came back through and they were still sitting in the same position. And still watching me. Now, this was getting creepy. Having a cat stare intently at you makes you wonder if he thinks he's the sole beneficiary of your will. (I don't recommend you make your cat your beneficiary. You're likely to discover you have a terminal illness. Like not being able to breathe with a cat sleeping on your face.) I stared right back at them. (I do recommend this. Don't let them know you're intimidated.) We stered at each other for maybe thirty seconds. Then I noticed a piece of string next to Stinker's foot, blowing gently in the air from the heating vent. This isn't unusual, so I went back to staring at the cats. It was then that a mouse ran out from under Stinker. It hadn't been a string. It had been the mouse's tail.

My first reaction was: "Well? Get it!" Then, I realized the poor squeaker was moving slowly and dragging one hind leg. I immediately felt bad. I caught it and carried it out to the garage where I set it on the floor. It turned circles, took a few steps in one direction, stopped, turned circles and took a few steps in another direction. Regarding it with pity, I told it, "If you're not able to get yourself out of here in the next ten minutes, I'm coming back with a shovel." It sounds heartless, but I wasn't going to leave the poor thing out there to suffer and die if it was brain damaged and incapable of taking care of itself. I went back inside, bemused. I'd never seen a mouse in my house before. I'd always assumed that they were too smart to come into a house containing five cats. (You may be happy to know that killing the mouse with the shovel turned out not to be necessary. I know I was.)

I noticed that there were now THREE cats sitting and staring at me. Apparently, the miscreants had brought along legal counsel: Leo. Conversationally, I asked, "So, was that poor little squeaker brain damaged when it came in here, or are you guys responsible?" Leo's look said quite plainly: "What mouse? We don't know nothin' about no mouse. Oh, THAT mouse. He injured himself falling out of the cupboard, which he had entered illegally. Why was Stinker sitting on him? To keep him warm and stave off shock until you could get your lazy butt out of bed to see to him. Now, if you don't mind, my clients are late for their naps." He noticed I wasn't buying it, so he went straight for appeal: He rolled over on his back and said: "Aren't I cute? Rub my belly!" Which I couldn't argue with. He IS very cute when he does that.

We left it at that. Really, what was there left to say in the face of Leo's brilliant defense? Case closed. I will admit, though to being a bit uncomfortable around them now that I know what they're capable of. I hope they never have cause to question my loyalty. Otherwise, Yoda may be a lot more difficult to dislodge from my face some morning when I'm trying to sleep in.