cat five-0

Maybe ‘Outlaw’ would be a better title but I’m going to stick with undercover operations – of a sort.

Sometime last week Pumpkin was jumped near our porch by another cat – which isn’t a new neighborhood arrival as far as I can tell – and ever since he’s been timid at the door. For me, he’ll still go out even if I have to give him a push on occasion; for X, she has to step out onto the porch so he can see that she’s not slain by some bully cat awaiting a good pounce opportunity. The end result is that Pumpkin has now added, and rightly so in this case, to his plethora of ‘issues’.

Right. You may ask yourself, “Where’s Lemon in all of this?”, and you’d be well to ask. Most of the time the Slayer appears to be napping and unawares on our bed’s comforter; blind to the happenings around her kingdom. In her mind, she’s already laid down the law of the land and any cat would be mad to consider either patrolling her block or, gasp, coming onto the porch. Until yesterday I wasn’t too sure if she’d be more bothered by the invasion of her suzerainty, or the fact that her pal was getting bullied. Who knows what a cat thinks? As I was heading out to class yesterday she was sitting near the front door and I asked (as it were) her if she wanted to head outside; she responded negatively, and indicated such, by walking a few feet to the den and hopping up on my desk so she could peer out the front (porch) window. As I stepped out, I noticed that Pumpkin was crouched on the front corner of the porch and that my sweet, little killer was keeping a close eye on the situation. Now, I don’t claim to understand what logical happenings or communication methods that may or may not exist in the brains of Felis Domesticus, but I’m certain that we have either a bait-and-beat situation, or a good friend merely keeping an eye upon the other. Whatever the genesis of the stakeout, there will be some misery if old bully shows up any time soon. And don’t think for a second that if an intruder approaches that Lemon can’t be from the desk, through the hall, out the cat door, and in full flight-upon-thee in less then three seconds. We’ll know when the issue has been settled by a few scratches and whatnot on Lemon’s ears; we may not hear it but we’ll know it. As for that other cat, you’re walking through the valley of death, not the shadow, the valley.

My two nights of American Cuisine this week involve the great dishes of the Great Plains. I asked if I could have a pass, being a native and all, but my chef said no. I then asked if I could just make some meat loaf, green bean casserole with Durkee’s fried onions, and a baked potato, and he said no. I think he doubts my cred.

We did get back to quiz night this week and did well – somewhere around 7^th for the evening. My contribution was managing to provide the Holy Trinity of Cajun cooking (onion, celery, green pepper in a mirepoix). I guess all this time and money has finally paid off…

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