Those of us who have cats (or who are had by cats, as the case may be) know that if you think you are in charge of them, you really aren’t.
I have four cats who own the house I live in. They are very insistent on getting fed each day, on having a soft place to lie when they take their 18-hour-long naps, and on being either inside or outside, depending on their druthers at the time.
However, I have yet to see any one of them make a house payment, or pay the PG&E bill, or the water bill.
I would especially appreciate it if they would pay the water bill, since mine has been going up lately (along with everybody else’s I am sure), but like cheapskates who never reach for the check in a restaurant, these cats disappear whenever I sit down to pay the bills for running the household. I will bring the bills out, and the checkbook, and some envelopes and stamps. And suddenly the cats are nowhere to be seen.
One cat will suddenly be under the coffee table. Another will be behind the couch. A third will be under the table that holds the television set, and the fourth will be in the dining room, up on the table peering out the window.
The cats also are put out when I decide I want to watch a little TV.
I will plop down on the couch, and all of a sudden these cats are crawling all over me, pawing at the remote. One of the cats, called Ruby, enjoys hitting the off button with the big toe of her right front foot. So the television set goes off. She settles down for a nap
I turn on the television set again, expending no small amount of effort. I am not what you would call an expert with electronic devices, and I still remember the good old days when one could walk over to the television set, push the button and it would come on. That cat, generally, is too lazy to go over to the television set to turn it on, so she just rolls over and takes a nap. Unless, of course, there are cats on the television screen. Then she will mosey over to watch them. She’s probably thinking, “What is that cat doing in that box?”
One of the cats will wait until I have gone to bed, then will sneak into the bedroom and jump up on my head.
I want to tell you that is very upsetting, especially if I am having a good dream.
I’m not sure whether President Trump has a cat, but if he does, he can probably shout out to the Secret Service, and they would come in and take the cat away.
The next morning, the Secret Service person might have a bandage on his wrist.
“What happened to you?” the president might ask.
“It was that darned cat,” the Secret Service guy might say.
“I’m glad it got you and not me,” the president might say.
That’s why I usually hold still when the cat is bopping me around and I am trying to get back to sleep. It’s bad enough losing shuteye without taking a good scratching, too.