Sometimes, I really just need to laugh. As much as I enjoy reading blog posts with thought-provoking information, there are days when that feels “ho-hum” because my brain is tired of processing facts.
Last week, I chuckled while reading two uproariously funny posts. In fact, you may have heard a hoot of laughter when this blogger told her cat and mouse story. I’m talking about Kristen Lamb and you can read the cat post here.
Usually I read blogs at lunch or after dinner. That Thursday, I saw the notification while I was eating breakfast, so I clicked on my WordPress app and began to devour it. (WARNING: don’t drink hot coffee while reading this.)
It made me think of my own cat stories. People understand that I prefer the company of my cat(s) over most other forms of company. I’ve already informed my husband that I will become a “cat lady” if he ever decides to precede me in death.
His response, “At least I’ll already be dead.” Well, if that’s what you want *stares daggers into his back.*
The cat we had when we were first married thought he was a supreme hunter. In fact, he was a house cat for the first two years of his life, and we had him declawed because it was more affordable than new furniture.
Without claws, this cat could climb trees and catch mice and birds. He even jumped on the back of the neighbor’s dog, riding it for a few seconds until he was sure it was leaving our property.
Back in the “leave the garage door ajar” days of cat care, we came home to the scene of an epic battle. Feathers floated in the air as the electric opener rolled back “door number one.”
My cats are awesome. They bring presents and leave them on the doormat. They don’t bring them in the house or put them in my bed. I praise them loudly and give them scratches under the chin when they bring a mouse or bird for me.
One morning, we were out working in the yard. I stepped out of the side door and saw my cat had something in his mouth. It was larger than a mouse, but it was black and furry.
It was a bat. I convinced him to drop it and proceeded to lean over and study it, wondering how he caught a bat in the morning. Don’t they only come out at night?
“Honey, look, Stache caught a bat!”
I lean in closer. The bat springs from its faint into my face.
Of course, I screamed and dodged, screamed and covered my head, and screamed. (Did I mention there was plenty of screaming? I’m not much of a screamer, but this was an exception.)
The cat ran away when the bat was moving, too. Yep. Of course, it could have been the blood-curdling screams that sent him crawling under the deck. I choose to believe it was the terrifying bat.
What did my husband do? Laugh. Of course, he patted my shoulder and said, “It’s gone” or some inane drivel meant to stop my hysteria. He thinks the bat flew into the side of the house and fell to the ground, stunned. The cat picked it up from there.
Note to self: a bat flying at your face is scarier than a hairy, eight-legged arachnid crawling on the bathroom counter.
What sort of funny pet stories do you have? If you got even a little chuckle from my story, I’d love to know about it.