Posted by: dougery | July 19, 2011

Glass Bomb

This morning I awoke to a bomb going off. In truth, it wasn’t exactly a bomb. Merely a glass toppling to the floor and exploding into a thousand super sharp grenade-like pieces of shrapnel. The glass that fell had formerly stood atop my wife’s bedside table where it had been coaxed to end its life by our cat Barry.

Barry is not subtle.

Every morning he plays the same game with my wife. Around 5:00am he begins to, as we have come to call it, scrump. He scrumps around in the hall, making annoyed sounding meows. He scrumps up onto the bed and purposely stomps atop blanket covered bodies. He scrumps off of dressers and windowsills onto blanket covered bodies in order to maximize the shock and awe style of his scrumping. And when all else fails he resorts to stretching up to the top of L’s bedside table and gently tapping whatever he may find there to the floor.

When he was much younger (and we were in Chicago) this item was my wife’s alarm clock. It was a round, glow-screen, apple-sized timepiece that resisted destruction when sent plummeting to the floor. Every morning I would temporarily awake to the sound of it clunking on the hardwood. If Barry could not find the alarm clock he would settle for a book, a pen, anything not tied down really.

Formerly this would never have been a glass. Long ago L discovered that if she went to bed with a glass of water our other, stupider cat Pickle would find the liquid irresistible. My wife did not want to enjoy our idiot cat’s backwash so she chose to forgo this option to spend the night parched and thirsty.

But lately the cats have been sleeping downstairs (its cooler down there). And last night L decided to brave our pets and get herself a glass of water in the middle of the night. Just this once. It proved to be that poor cup’s doom.

As I said it was 5am when all of a sudden I was awake. Something had shattered very close to my head. I was quick enough to see Barry’s bottlebrush tail leave the room. Even he had not expected this. After some tedious clean-up, the retiring of Barry to his time-out room, and some bleary-eyed curses, we returned to bed.

Needless to say, I could have 75 glasses stacked in a pyramid holding up Faberge eggs and Barry would not give it a second glance. Despite the fact I am the one who more often than not feeds the cats each morning, Barry still insists on attacking L’s belongings. Which is frustrating for her to say the least.

But I know the real truth. Barry is much much smarter than us. He realizes that L is the bigger threat, and is working to eliminate her first, whereby he can pick me off at his leisure. Worse, he knows I know this. Sometimes, when he is sitting in his taco I can see him figuring things out, like that velociraptor in Jurassic Park. It is only a matter of time.

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Responses

  1. I expect you two have already seen this:

    http://www.snotr.com/video/528/The__quot_wake_up_quot__cat

  2. They show extraordinary intelligence, even problem-solving. Especially the big one. We bred eight originally, but when she came in she took over the pride and killed all but two of the others. That one… when she looks at you, you can tell she’s working things out.

  3. “Not unless they can figure out how to open doors…”


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