All of the animals except for man know that the principal business of life is to enjoy it.
~Samuel Butler
The continuous thump, thump, thump piqued my curiosity. I peeked my head into the bathroom where I saw my black-and-white feline sprawled on the floor. “What are you doing, Grenoble?”
His right paw stretched up into the cat feeder I had placed there eight hours earlier. Catching sight of me, he grinned slyly while continuing to tap, tap, tap at the mouth of the feeder to make it drop food one piece at a time.
“Stop it,” I demanded.
He darted for the door, but stopped just outside where he sat undaunted, daintily licking the crumbs from his paw. Meanwhile, I stewed in the bathroom, staring at the “cat-proof” feeder that was anything but cat-proof. The inventor clearly had not owned an aggressively hungry cat.
I had joyfully invested fifty dollars in the gadget because it was supposed to relieve me of the twice-daily feedings I’d resorted to since Grenoble was eating himself into diabetes territory. He consistently scarfed all but a few pieces of the food before my other cat, Mykonos, could set foot in the bathroom. The most annoying part, though, was Grenoble anxiously trailing behind me all day while he cried for more food.
Staring at my plastic nemesis, I decided I needed help overcoming its flaws. I strode onto my balcony where my parents, who were visiting, sipped coffee.
“Hey, Dad, are you up for helping me fix something?”
“Sure. What is it?”
“The cat feeder. Grenoble can get it to drop food, so he’s still eating too much.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“We need to strap something across the opening so he can’t reach up inside.”
Five minutes later, we were driving to a hardware store. We brainstormed ways to use the items hanging before us. Deciding to try a ruler, we sawed the item to fit across the opening and screwed it onto the bowl. Dad and I admired our clever design.
We returned to the balcony where we discussed how different cats are from dogs. Having grown up with dogs, I was still learning about my cats’ demeanor, needs, and quirks. I had even purchased a book on the topic, but it neglected to discuss what to do if a cat is a mastermind of cat feeders.
Then I heard it. Thump, thump, thump.
“No way!” I yelled, as I ran to the bathroom where Grenoble had resumed his position, right paw extended into the feeder. He was uninhibited by the ruler. I scooped him off the floor and closed the door.
“I’m heading back to the store,” I announced to my parents as I grabbed my purse and keys.
I returned with a second ruler, which my dad installed below the first one. I carried Grenoble to the feeder and sat on the toilet to watch his reaction to the twice-altered contraption. Sensing a new challenge, he tried his prior tactic. It failed. Then he attempted to lift the bowl off the feeder with his right paw. Unsuccessful again. Victory!
Thinking the feeder issues were resolved, I was perplexed when I awoke the next morning to a loud snap. Curious, I stepped into my slippers and padded down to the bathroom to investigate. I was greeted by Grenoble happily eating from the top of the feeder. The screw-on lid lay to the side where he had carelessly abandoned it.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I growled. “Why can’t you just eat less?”
I returned the lid to its position, set Grenoble outside the door again as I closed it, got dressed and headed for my car. When I returned, I resolutely set a brick on top of the feeder.
I looked at Grenoble, who sat casually beside me, inspecting my handiwork.
“Good luck getting the food now. I think I’ve finally thwarted your efforts.”
He smiled and looked at the feeder. I saw the wheels turning as he schemed new ways to get his precious food.
I settled on the sofa so I could call my parents to inform them of the latest developments in the feeder saga. As I shared my brilliance with them, I heard a loud thump.
“Gotta go,” I said. I darted to the bathroom.
Grenoble was body slamming the feeder into the wall. Each time he hit it, food cascaded into the bowl.
“I give up,” I said. “You win.” I shuffled back to the sofa, plopped down, and sulked.
After a few more thumps, Grenoble sauntered across the floor. He leaped onto my lap and rubbed his pale pink nose against my hand. I stroked his head while mulling over his weight problem.
“I was trying to get you healthy, big guy, but you’re too stubborn.”
He responded with a rumbling purr. I gazed into his hazel eyes that exuded love. I realized Grenoble was happy and still adored me despite my efforts to limit his food intake. So what was I stressing about? I no longer had to feed the cats twice per day, and when I thought about it, his cat-feeder antics were actually hilarious.
Smiling at my feisty feline, I said, “So, Grenoble, the body slamming was pretty creative, but I think you can do better than that.”
I carried him back to the bathroom and placed him in front of the feeder as I sat on the toilet to observe.
~Heather Harshman
