I have my suspicions.
My cat, Tango, is a secretive little creature, as are most cats. However, mine is not only secretive but, I think, also possessed by demons.
Oh, she’s good at pretending to be a docile little house cat, but lately, upon returning home from work, I’ve noticed cigarette burns in the upholstery, and I don’t smoke in the living room. There are also rolling papers and catnip scattered everywhere, and the water and food dishes are both empty. Add to that the paw prints of varying sizes all over the handle on the refrigerator door, and it doesn’t take Stephen Hawking to put it all together.
She has parties with what appears to be (if detritus is any indication) about sixty other cats!
Observing my look of irritation upon my arrival in the den of iniquity that used to be my home, she puts on her most innocent expression and summons up a mournful little “mew.” This translates to: “A whole crowd of bandits broke in here and messed up the place and ate all my food and drank all my water, and I was so scared I went and hid, and where were you, anyway?”
“I am not fooled, Tango,” I said, bending down to wipe up the 47 barfed-up hairballs that dotted my oriental carpet.
“Mew,” she replied. This translates to: “No, no! Those hairballs are mine! If you brushed me more than three times a day, I wouldn’t be having that problem! It’s all your fault!”
I looked at her in disgust. “You know, you can’t go on like this, Tango -- having wild parties all day, and eating catnip like it’s cat food! You’re going to damage your health, not to mention the woodwork,” I said, indicating a newel post that had been clawed so much it was now a newel toothpick.
“Mew,” she shot back. This translates to: “Yeah, yeah, get off my back. I’m four years old, and I can do what I want. I don’t need your permission! Pardon me for living!”
“And, Tango, there have been complaints from the neighbors about loud music during the day.”
“Mew.” Translated: “Geez, what CAN I do?! Am I breathing too loudly for you and your sainted neighbors? Do you have any idea how boring it is all day around here? And those toys you give me? What a joke! Why don’t you bring home a live mouse once in a while, Ms. Big Shot Writer?”
“And just look at your litter box! What a mess! This litter was fresh this morning and now it has about 20 pounds of poop in it!”
“Mew.” Translated: “If you’d buy me some decent food, my furry little colon wouldn’t be acting like a Play-Doh Fun Factory, moron!”
Sighing, I stood and threw away the last hairball. If you leave your cat alone during the day, I strongly advise you to lock up the milk!