The Penn professors had recently moved into a large Victorian-era house with Monkey, their 2-year-old gray tabby. He was small, lively and very cute. His special talent was scaling the seemingly impossible, a penchant aided by an extra toe on each snowy front paw.
Monkey’s new home was a paradise of tall windows, stairways, mantels, ledges, and massive bookcases stuffed with weighty volumes and papers. If the professors forgot to shut him out of the room before pulling books off the shelves, the clever cat would linger until his people were engrossed in their studies. On silent pussytoes Monkey would climb the bookcase to exploit the openings they had created, maneuvering shelved books over the edge. Thud! Crash! Humans jumping to their feet!!
As fun as that was, the kitchen was Monkey’s favorite playground.
I cared for Monkey in the 90s in a kitchen that hadn’t been updated since the 50s. A dull white fridge stationed between two windows was covered in takeout menus, reminders, and business cards (including mine). Along the opposite wall was a small stove next to an old-fashioned sink cabinet. Above the sink cabinet were four cupboards mounted so high, only bottom shelves could be reached without a stepladder. To keep all within easy reach, kitchen staples were crammed into the middle double cupboard along with Monkey’s cat food.
A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION
No one could fathom how such a small cat could jump that high, straight up from the short, narrow countertop to the top of the cupboards. But his people knew he could because one day Monkey was discovered up there attempting to pry open the doors. A ladder was fetched and Monkey was carried to safety.
Believing his attempted break-in was about the cat food, his owners relocated the kibble to a sturdy metal bin to prevent food raids and to keep him safe. Monkey ignored the bin and kept climbing because it was hard-wired and kitchen raids were fun. He continued to refine his cupboard opening skills.
I was booked to care for Monkey during a week-long vacation. The owners prepared for their absence by filling bookshelf gaps and packing away most kitchen staples to discourage Monkey’s cupboard curiosity. I was warned their cat sometimes stripped the fridge of magnets and menus.
Looking after Monkey was entertaining. On the first day the double cupboard doors were open though nothing had been disturbed. I took that to mean the owners’ precautions were working. Before my second visit, Monkey pried open the same doors and pushed boxes of cereal onto the floor. Luckily one box was unopened, the other half full. By the third day the same cupboard had been raided, causing a few containers to bounce and spill on their way to the floor. @*#?!!
A sturdy wooden spoon was slid under the double cupboard pulls to lock the doors.
I suspect Monkey experienced a similar kind of @*#?!! The next morning I entered the kitchen to find my business card stuck to the floor under a pile of his poop.
Commentaires