Every night around 7 – sometimes a little earlier, sometimes a little later – it’s snackin’ time for the kitties, our kitties, and the two who hang around outside and DO NOT BELONG TO US.
After dinner – usually around 5 – every time I walk through the kitchen or stop to get a drink or whatever, the cats (especially Spot) run into the kitchen with the “IS IT SNACKIN’ TIME?!” eyes, and they mill around then decide it’s not snackin’ time because I haven’t bellowed “WHO READY FOR THE SNACKIN’?” like I always do.
Last night, Fred was taking a shower before we started watching TV, and I went into the kitchen to get the kitty snacks.
“WHO’S READY FOR THE SNACKIN’?” I bellowed, and they all started doing what they do every night at Snackin’ Time. Sugarbutt and Tommy jump up on the counter so that the instant I open the cans of cat food, they can stick their little pig noses in and start licking whatever they can get their tongues on. Spot sits in the middle of the kitchen and meows his weird soundless meows (you can hear his mouth opening and closing as he does it). Spanky sits in a corner of the room and gives me the “I am so hungry, but I am a big wimpy wimp who cannot fight the hordes of cats for a taste of the tasty snack. Help?” (he gets a little bit on a dish to himself). Mister Boogers stomps back and forth waggling his stump and meowing demandingly. Miz Poo might wander in to see if she’s interested, but she’s usually not.
Anyway, as soon as I bellowed “WHO READY FOR THE SNACKIN’?”, I heard the sound of a human running goonily down the hallway. I instantly knew it was Fred, and he was going to show up in the kitchen doorway and either meow or give me the crazyhungry eyes.
I glanced around at the cats, sure they’d be freaked out by the sound of a person running down the hallway, but they were all eyeballing the can of cat food in my hand. As Fred approached the doorway, I turned around to give him a grin.
He popped into the doorway, and the instant he did, the cats lost their minds. As one, they levitated and ran into the laundry room. There was a loud clanging noise, and then they reappeared, some of them scrabbling to regain their balance as they ran across the hardwood floor of the kitchen, and they raced through the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room, and then they vanished.
I laughed so hard I thought I was going to pass out.
For the rest of the evening, the cats walked around low to the ground with big, dark eyes, tails puffed out, trying to remember why they were so freaked out. And I’d remember them racing into the laundry room, hearing that loud clanging noise, and then them running back through the kitchen, and I’d laugh all over again.
Even now, writing about it, I’m giggling.
Tommy makes like a bat.
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Previously
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.