Sparkle Learns the Ropes

Maybe it isn’t so bad here after all. I didn’t even notice this the first couple of days, but after a while it dawned on me—this place is full of kitty toys! You name it, they’ve got it here—little fluffy balls, plastic balls with bells, poles with toys on strings hanging off them, sparkly mice toys and other creatures. They even have a toy bat—for some reason, no one but me likes the bat.

 

But my favorite toy looks like a little feather duster. In fact they have two of them here. I could play with them for hours… and I do!

 

The other great thing about living here is that Boodie has decided we can be friends, so we hang out all the time. She even lets me attack her and beat her up. Binga beats her up too. My human calls Boodie the “kitty punching bag.” Maybe it has something to do with her being a foster—she tries harder to make us like her.

Binga still hasn’t decided if she likes me or not.

She still has her unpleasant moments.

She slaps me now and again (usually at mealtime), but I’ve already made it clear that she can’t beat me up the way she does Boodie.

The meeting place for all the cats is the king size bed in the master bedroom. We hang out there all the time, sometimes under it, but usually on top of it in the afternoons, when it’s sunny.

Living here does have a couple of drawbacks, though. That Sushi dog is one of them—she’s way too hyperactive. And I hate my collar—the first time my human put it on me I did a few somersaults trying to get it off. Unfortunately that didn’t work. It’s a cheap three-dollar thing from the market and my human refuses to get me a better one—she says I’ll grow out of it and it’ll be a waste of money.

But the really strange thing about living here took me completely by surprise—I’m expected to do tricks! I don’t know whatever got into my human’s head, but she’s really into making all the cats do tricks, like it’s not good enough that we just hang out and look great. I found out about the first trick at mealtime—she expects us to sit up for our dinner! The other two cats are used to this odd ritual. Binga, in fact, will sit up for any reason. She gets treats between meals for sitting up.

Even Boodie sits up for a Nutro Gourmet chunk.

I don’t know about this sitting up thing. I’d rather just grab the stupid fork and pull off the chunk of cat food. “It’s a good thing you don’t have opposable thumbs,” my human says. “Otherwise we’d really be in trouble.”

The other trick we have to do is the “balance beam”—we’re supposed to walk on the upstairs railing for a treat. Actually Boodie doesn’t do this one—she doesn’t have the figure for it. Lucky. Binga, as usual, is the one who excels. Occasionally, she’ll just jump right on the railing and start walking on it, hoping to get that treat.

 

I’m not so sure about this balance beam thing.

 

It’s not the height—it’s not all that high for a cat. I just think it’s kind of dumb. I’d rather go play with the feather duster. Or sit on the bed and gnaw on the blanket when I think no one’s watching.

»December 2002