Fun fact: Most cats like their food at room temperature and won’t eat it if it’s too hot or too cold.
The first cat I ever had, a gift from my girlfriend, was a black kitten that came into my life because his previous owner (my girlfriend’s co-worker) was looking for a new home for him. They had to give him up when they had a baby and the cat thought she was a plaything.
Phantom would lie asleep at the other end of the couch as I watched television, but would be waiting for me in the kitchen when I got up to get a snack. I never saw him run past me; he simply appeared in the kitchen before I did. He also developed the habit of finding ways to get to the human food he wanted so much. I swore he could walk through walls (or at least pantry doors).
Several years later, my now-wife and I moved to the other side of the country, to Los Angeles, to start a new job for me at a new school. The two of us and Phantom moved into our new home in August. My wife and I both came from big families and were used to large gatherings for Thanksgiving, so we were a little sad that we could not afford to fly back home for the holiday. Determined to make the best of the situation, we invited several friends in the same predicament over to celebrate “Friendsgiving” on that Thursday.
As the cook in our family, I spent the early morning hours preparing the turkey and a dozen side dishes, constantly shooing Phantom out of the kitchen. When our guests arrived, we asked them to help us keep Phantom away from the food. Eventually, he made such a pest of himself during dinner that I put him in the bedroom and closed the door.
After dinner, we left everything on the dining room table and the kitchen counter in order to go to the living room, watch some football, and relax after eating. A few minutes into the game, I heard a noise from the kitchen. With my wife and all of our guests sitting there, no one was in the kitchen, so I got up and looked down the hall. The bedroom door was open a crack.
Moving quickly to the kitchen, I could not believe what I saw. I had carved the turkey and left the uncarved part sitting on the counter. Phantom was sitting inside the remains of the turkey, very contentedly eating around himself. He was in the act of pulling some meat off the thigh I had not served.
“Phantom!” I yelled, startling some of the guests, who jumped up to see what was the matter. The cat simply gave me a look and kept eating. The guests, on the other hand, found it quite funny, although we now had a lot fewer leftovers.
I finally went over and removed him from his seat in paradise, cleaned him off (threatening him with a bath later) and set to work cleaning up. By the time I left the kitchen, he was contentedly licking himself clean on the couch in the spot I had vacated, no doubt enjoying the turkey flavor.
Phantom is gone now, but our friends still laugh about the year that we did not have a “turducken” but rather a “turkitten” for Thanksgiving dinner.
~Kevin Wetmore
