An ordinary kitten will ask more questions than any five-year-old.
~Carl Van Vechten
I was about to install a full-length mirror on the back of my bathroom door, but needed a different screwdriver. I leaned the mirror against the wall and went to retrieve the proper tool.
When I returned, my bull’s-eye-patterned, orange rescue cat was seated in front of the mirror, staring intently at his reflection. I smiled and waited to see what he thought of that “other cat” in there.
Gently, Simon reached out with one paw and patted the glass. Then he pressed his nose against the nose of his reflection and gave it a quick lick. Next, he walked around behind the mirror and came out the other side, looking rather befuddled.
“What’s the matter, my sweet little genius?” I asked him. “Can’t you find that other orange cat?”
He meowed. Ever since I brought him home from the shelter, he meowed at me whenever I ask a question. He’s pretty quiet most of the time, but when my voice goes up at the end of the sentence, he nearly always has an answer.
He turned to look at me, tilted his head, and turned back to the mirror. “Meow?” He nosed the reflection again and reached out, tentatively at first.
Suddenly, he reared up on his hind legs and started batting at his reflection, effectively shadowboxing with an image he could not beat. His rights and lefts came swiftly: Bam! Pow! Kerplunk!
I leaned against the bathroom counter and laughed like crazy.
Simon looked over his shoulder at me. I couldn’t decide if he was asking for help or imploring me to stop laughing at him.
I swooped him up and carried him to the kitchen. “I’m sure that other cat has learned his lesson,” I told him. “And you’ve earned a treat.”
Setting him on the floor, I opened the cupboard and got out his box of special snacks. While he enjoyed his reward, I went back into the bathroom, closed the door, and installed the mirror — positioning it just a little higher than I’d planned.
I didn’t want the little guy traumatized every time he followed me in there!
~Jan Bono
