In a cat’s eye, all things belong to cats.
~English Proverb
My kitten climbed my leg like a lemur. “Miss Skitters! Get down!” I grimaced as I felt the razor-like claws.
I set the bag of French fries on the table and pulled her off me. Miss Skitters’ eyes locked onto the bag like a heat-seeking missile to its target. She scrambled. I snatched the bag. Miss Skitters leaped. I couldn’t believe I was battling an adorable, gray-and-white kitten.
“No!” I said firmly, pointing.
Miss Skitters relented. Sort of. Yowling, she stalked me to the couch and intermittently attempted to nab French fries. I put her in the bedroom and shut the door.
That was only the beginning. My husband and I quickly discovered that this cat loved to eat. Anything. Potatoes, onions, lettuce. Miss Skitters never met a food she didn’t like. Every edible item required Fort Knox-style containment. She struck unattended consumables like a ravenous bear at a picnic ground.
One day, I forgot and left a package of hot-dog buns on the counter. I returned to the kitchen to find her in a frenzied feeding. Guttural sounds rattled in her throat. Bits of buns spewed from her mouth. As I grabbed her, she snagged a surviving bun and wrapped it between her front legs.
Although we kept food under lock and key, Miss Skitters mysteriously started packing on pounds. Finally, we discovered that while we were bringing home the bacon, she was eating it. Literally. While we were out, Miss Skitters was creating a buffet beneath our bed. Its existence remained unknown until I heard rustling one afternoon. I peeked under the bed and discovered Miss Skitters with her head shoved into a plastic bag. She was gnawing at an accumulated smorgasbord of rotten hot dogs, rib bones, and other delectable items. She had managed to get into the garbage can in the cupboard beneath the sink. That got locked up, too.
A couple of years later, we adopted a calico cat. My husband placed the cat bowls on opposite sides of the room — a good strategy until Miss Skitters slinked over to scarf down Little Buddy’s food, and then returned to polish off her own afterward. We had to start standing sentry over meals.
During a visit from my sister, Miss Skitters pulled off one of her stealthiest missions. While we were at work, my sister decided to vacuum. The closet that housed the vacuum cleaner also stored the cat food. Since Miss Skitters popped things open and closed with her paws, we always placed a chair in front of the door. My sister accidentally left that door ajar. Halfway through vacuuming, she remembered and hurried to the compromised location. The door had mysteriously closed. My sister opened it to find Miss Skitters inside the cat-food bag inhaling kibble.
During the entire twelve years of her life, Miss Skitters’ desire for food never ceased, nor did her cunning ability to obtain it. She pilfered a donut here and a pizza slice there, shamelessly accomplishing her mission to the very end.
~Lisa Mackinder
