It started
innocently enough with old post it notes. I wadded one up one day to
toss it in the trash, and immediately the cat was right in front of
me tilting her head and looking expectantly. As I wadded and tossed
it toward the garbage, she leapt up in the air, intercepted the throw,
and started batting the bit of paper around the room.
She was
so cute. I wadded up some more post its especially for her, and tossed
them out. She loved the game. We called it mousies.
Pretty
soon, the second she heard the crinkling sound of paper she was right
there, begging.
One mousie
was never enough. She wanted to first play catch with as many as I would
throw, before she batted them around the room. She looked so pitiful
if I stopped throwing. Whole pads of post its started to disappear before
I realized it. She became an expert at catching the wads mid air, as
I praised her efforts, and skill.
I got
wise, though, and quit wasting post its. Instead I tore up junk mail
and wadded and tossed. At least I found a cheap way to feed her habit.
Pretty
soon, she decided to look for her own paper late at night while we were
sleeping. We started finding white napkins from the napkin holder tossed
on the floor in the mornings —several times— before we learned.
Any random napkin, kleenex, any white paper now became fair game.
The holiday
came and there were presents for her-- crinkly wrapping paper and crinkly
paper candy cups. She was right there in my face to claim them. She
was so cute. I showed my granddaughters how to wad and throw. I wanted
to share the fun.
As I turn
my head to the left tonight, spread in front of me in a line on the
floor are at least seven tiny wadded up pieces of paper which she is
merrily batting around. And as I survey the living room, there are even
more random patches of white. There must be hundreds of tiny pieces
of paper hiding under the furniture.
She's
created a monster.
I'm out
of control.
I'm throwing
trash on the floor.
Everyday.
For my
cat.