Catvent calendar: Day 18

Guest post!

An actual real one written by someone else this time

Illustrious and longstanding commenter of this parish, Emrys, noticed I was struggling (or, to put it plainly not even managing to post at all) to keep up with my catvent calendar, and emailed offering one of his own cat tales as a catvent day. And I was more than happy to accept it. More than this, it reminded me of a very own post I had written on this here blog, meaning Emrys had actually offered me TWO days of catvent goodness! Hurray!

Now, onto Misty and her questionable hunting skills

Billy the Bass-tard (another That Stupid Cat adventure)

Recent comments by someone about Misty’s intelligence (and the unlikelihood of there being any) reminded me of the Great Fish Caper story.

Her brother, Sam, was definitely the bright one in the family – he used to enjoy being given a choice of catfood (three tins lined up, he’d wander up and down and then nudge the one he wanted – and he wouldn’t eat the food if we gave him one of the other two, bless his little furry paws).

One of his sister’s finest moments (in my opinion) came on Christmas. We’d been given one of those wonderful Billy The Bass singing fish things (I won’t mention by whom because he and/or she are occasional visitors). Hugely amusing, of course, after a few choruses of whatever it sang, we propped it up against the TV cabinet and returned to vegetating as is traditional.

Misty entered the room some time later and spotted a huge fish just lying there, asking to be eaten. I’d spotted her reaction – she froze when she spotted it – and quietly pointed this out to Di.

“Watch this – it should be fun”

As I’d hoped, the furry beast squatted down to reduce her silhouette and slowly crept across the floor intent on her prey. Even Di’s stifled giggles didn’t distract her from the Biggest Christmas Dinner For A Cat Ever – there was almost a trail of drool across the carpet as she imagined sinking her teeth into the tasty, tasty piscene.

It was because she was stalking it so well and slowly that the motion sensor on the fish didn’t pick her up at first. In fact, she’d got to within a foot of the contraption when it suddenly turned to face her and started singing.

I swear she leapt her height off the floor, howled and fled as Di and I fell off the sofa, laughing. Misty refused to return to the living room for some days, so the fish was packed away. It’ll be in a box, somewhere.

I wonder if she’ll remember it if I find it …