About five this morning, when I was lying in bed, not sleeping, Goten starts playing with something. I can hear him in the kitchen, running around, batting something. Something that as it hit the walls, made a noise... that I can only describe as soundling like "fwik!"
Goten is not a tiny cat. So, when Goten leaps around the house, it sounds rather like someone is tossing a ham around the place. So, as I'm in bed, again, I tell you not sleeping I'm hearing *THUD!* *trampletrampletrample* fwik! *THUD* *trampletramplegallop* fwik!"
And, being the very concerned pet owner I am, I think Well, as long as he's amused, he's not chewing on me. Go Goten, go! and get back to the business at hand of not sleeping.
For a good hour this went on. *THUD* *trampletrampletrample* *fwick!* Over and over again. I'm thinking about trying to teach him to time it a little better. Then, perhaps, it will become a soothing rythem that I can listen to while I'm busy not sleeping.
Around 6:00, I hear *THUD* *Trampletrample* *fwik,* pfff MRRROW!
Again, proving how concerned and caring I am about my beloved cats, I chose to ignore it.
A couple minutes goes by and I hear *THUD THUD GLOMP GLOMP THUD* The final thud, almost knocking me out of the bed, mainly because Goten has just leaped upon it, interrupting my not sleeping.
I think for a moment, maybe if I close my eyes, he'll think I'm dead and leave me alone. Then it occurs to me that sometimes I think it's only the fact that I move that keeps him from thinking I'm a dead animal and therefore, a food source. So I look at him.
He's perched on the other side of my bed, staring at me, head tipped to one side. "What's up, Goten?"
"Mrrrup, mrrrup, mrrrow?"
So caught up was I in not sleeping, that I totally forgot my vast command of the cat language. I shook my head instead and said, "Sorry, I don't understand."
So, like any good cat from the United States, he does what many Americans do when faced with someone who does not speak their language. He speaks louder because we all know that if you scream something, no matter what the language the listener speaks, they will understand you clearly.
MRRUP MRRUP MRROW!"
I debate if I should get up, but you know, I've dedicated this portion of my life to not sleeping and damn it, no one, not even Goten has the right to deprive me of it. So I go, "That's nice. Now go play in traffic." And roll over.
Deciding I need a gentle reminder that he, Goten, is speaking to me, he sinks his claws into my shoulder and begins to pull. *Tug tug* "Mrrup? Mrrow... MRRRUP!"
"GOTEN, DROP DEAD!"
He backs off for a moment, probably trying to remember what I've told him before. Oh yeah, if I make the red stuff come out of Mommy, she gets really pissed. Time to change tactics.
This time it's just the tips of his claws, not enough to break skin, just annoy it. *Skkkirch skkkkirch* "MRRRUP!"
Well, clearly, since I'll have to get up soon enough for work, my night of not sleeping is ruined so I sit up. And, because I'm always brimming with love for this creature, I shoot him a nasty look and say, "What do you want?"
Goten looks all happy and leaps off the bed, heads to the doorway and stops to give me a look like, "C'mon, let's go, I have to show you something, Mommy, c'mon, let's go, this is great, you'll love it!"
So, I stumble out of bed and follow him into the kitchen.
Where everything is exactly the same. All the dust balls are in their places, the bowls of food are full, the water bowl is nice and full. The very important boxes containing, I believe the official term is, "Shit I should find a place for, that I've had for over five years..." are still stacked in their haphazard way around the kitchen table. Nothing seems amiss.
Well, Chrissy is sitting in the window, looking at me with a look that clearly tells me that I've let Goten live far too long and this must be rectified immedietly, but that's pretty normal for Chrissy.
Goten is leaping around the boxes going, "Mrrup, mrrup, mrrow!"
I glance at the boxes. Nothing seems out of place in the jumbled pile of crap, so I shrug. "I don't know what you want, Goten." And I go and get a diet pepsi out of the refrigerator.
"Mrrup, mrrup, Mrrow!" He's starting to get louder now, and a bit more frantic. Clearly, I'm the idiot in this situation, because I can't read his mind, or understand his language. Shame on me!
Chrissy gives her editorial opinion, by sitting up, drawing herself to her full height, shaking her left paw and going... wait for it... it's coming.....
I don't understand Chrissy any better than I understand Goten, but I'm pretty sure Chrissy was not trying to help Goten, she was more suggesting that at that particular moment, what with Todd being out of the house and the landlord still sleeping, I we could stab Goten with one of the kitchen knives, hack him to bits, seal him in baggies, and burry him in the backyard of the abandoned house next door and no one would be the wiser. I think the last part of that, was her promise to look extra innocent and cute so no one would ever catch on that we did this.
I look at Chrissy. "It's not your birthday yet, girl. be patient."
She snorts at me (and I have never met a cat that snorts like Chrissy does. She has it down to an artform. One snort and you know that you are less than boogers in her eye, and don't you ever forget it.) and starts looking out the window. I can read her vibes. Oh, sure, give him what he wants, but never me. It's never about me. I'm the oldest, I'm the one that's always picked on... it's not fair!
So, back to Goten, who's still leaping about the boxes making all these frantic cat noises.
Something starts to click in my head that what he's upset about is whatever he was batting around earlier has somehow landed in one of these boxes, and rather than dig it out himself, he should get me to do this! So, I poke in the boxes a bit, seeing for anything obvious, like one of his little plastic balls that should have a bell in it, but doesn't , because.. well, I've stepped on it, and that cracked it enough so that I felt obligated to take out the bell before he swallowed it and choked on it.
Chrissy still hasn't forgiven me for that.
I don't see the ball in there. I do see a lot of really stupid junk that we've been tossing in there because we're lazy. Little bits of paper and the occational soda cap. I really think it's ended up in there because I keep the boxes close to the trash can and well... let's say basketball isn't "my thing" and leave it at that.
So, I start poking around in the boxes, looking for his mute ball, or something else that must be pretty darned nifty, to get my cat to insist on dragging me away from not sleeping to help him find it. I'm hoping maybe it's a diamond ring someone left here that I can sell and use the money to buy better cats.
While I'm doing this, I start pulling out little wads of paper, soda caps, etc. putting them on the kitchen table to be thrown out.
Finally, I pull out one very small wad of paper. It's a straw wrapper, actually, wadded up in a little ball. Probably left in my work apron at some point.
Goten sees this, leaps on the table, looks at me like YES! THAT'S IT! bats it to the floor and begins running around the kitchen again, playing happily.
I look at the large pile of scrap paper on the table, which included at least two other crumpled up straw wrappings. And... while very annoyed that I haven't had a restful night of not sleeping, I have to be amazed too.
I mean, we all think Lassie is so cool for getting June Lockhart when Timmy fell down the well. But you gotta figure Timmy was about six and probably weighed at least fifty pounds. When he fell in the well, if Lassie was within 50 feet, she had to hear the splash.
Then, Lassie probably trotted over to the well and peered down and heard Timmy go, "Lassie, go get help!" Which identified to Lassie that yes, it was Timmy, and yes, he needed help.
But could Lassie detect when a tiny scrap of paper had fallen into a box with other tiny scraps of paper to the point where Lassie would know, when the correct paper was removed from the box?
I think not.