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Friday, December 27, 2013

Early Morning, Vacation Day

The piles of cardboard boxes in the kitchen have attracted the cats. 

A part of Willie’s father’s estate and having sat on the second-floor porch since June, the porch has been emptied to make room for the New Year’s Eve party smokers.

The boxes now occupy precious square footage in the kitchen, a room roughly the size of a nice walk-in closet.

Outside the kitchen window, the sky is a startling blue, a bright and vivid contrast to the overwhelming whiteness of the rest of Minneapolis.

“Liza Bean!  Kitty-kitty!  Over here!”  Across the table, Willie, a steaming cup of black coffee in front of him, takes advantage of an errant sunbeam, a strip of precious, golden light already foreign to our December-weary, winter-fied eyes.  Hands in the mid-air stream of warmth, he bends his fingers.

“Woof!  Woof!” he says.  A shadowy dog’s head, cleverly created and thrown against the kitchen cabinets, barks.  A tiny tongue lolls from its shadow-mouth. 

Liza Bean Bitey, tiny, symmetrically striped animal, former holder of the world’s record in the Long Distance Gerbil Chase and Chomp and regular prank caller on the Rush Limbaugh show, narrows her eyes at him from atop the boxes.

“Very nice,” she says drily.  Her green eyes sparkle.  “Now can you do a disinterested cat?”

Willie, bless him, tilts his head, ever-so-slightly, gazes into the distance as he considers the contortionism that would go into creating such a thing. 

“How long,” I interrupt, “will those boxes be in the kitchen?  Just, you know, conversationally.”

Willie takes a sip of his coffee.  “Well,” he says, thoughtfully, “the kitties do enjoy the stacks, and they ask for so little.”

I look at Dolly Gee, our long-haired, speed-bump-impersonating cat, a cat with an affinity for Patsy Cline, short-shorts, and liquid eyeliner.  She smiles at me from atop a box full of yearbooks and newspaper clippings. 

“Dolly,” I say.  “What do you think?  Should Willie bring the boxes to the basement?”

Dolly Gee Squeakers, formerly of the Humane Society Squeakers, blinks a slow, sapphire-tinted blink.

Willie sighs.  “I thought she’d say that,” he says, rising.  “Dang cat.  Make another pot, will you?”


26 comments:

Delores said...

Dolly's on your side.

Sioux said...

A kitchen the size of a nice walk-in closet? You are lucky. My kitchen is the size of a toilet in a French bar.

(The only thing it's lacking is foot imprints to show where to stand.)

It's nice to know that Dolly is siding with you...for now.

Daisy said...

Will Lisa Bean and Dolly also have to go on the balcony to smoke? LB is the smoker, right? Is it at the annual New Year party that she pilfers her supply from the purses of unsuspecting guests?

May 2014 be a grand year for you and your loved ones Pearl, with much joy.

Barbara, humble servant of the Princess Daisy of Alberni

sage said...

Have a wonderful New Year's party--you and Willie and the cats!

vanilla said...

Willie has no chance-- three against one.

Simply Suthern said...

I feel Willies pain as the husband of a two cat wife and father of a one cat daughter that lives with us. They were all balancing on the stacked boxes Christmas morning.

The Geezers said...

Why do I keep coming back here....I'm not even fond of cats.

Jono said...

You do know that cardboard is the ultimate cat trap, don't you?

Daisy said...

I'm surprised by Dolly's answer!! Have fun at your party. :D

Joanne Noragon said...

Neither of them is master at hide in the box, then tip it off balance when Willie goes down the basement stair, I hope.

Elephant's Child said...

The kitties ask for so little? WHAT was in Willie's coffee - or has he been hypnotised?

fishducky said...

The happiest of holidays to you, Willie &the kitties!!

Far Side of Fifty said...

You still know people who smoke..and not those ecigs either? I thought all the smokers had died. I still have a carton and a half of Marlboro Lights in the deep freeze staying fresh (after four years) just in case I cannot resist or if something happens to drive me back to smoking:)

jenny_o said...

Men ... they'll take orders from a cat but not the wife!

Happy holidays to you and yours, Pearl.

Gigi said...

Glad to hear you've got backup! Tell Willie the hardest part is done - getting them inside the house.

Hope you had a Merry Christmas and am wishing you all the best for 2014!

bill lisleman said...

Maybe next year willie gets a dog for Christmas

ThreeOldKeys said...

I thought yesterday was boxing day.

River said...

I'm with Dolly Gee, the boxes belong in the basement.
My kitchen is not much larger than a walk-in closet. Two steps one way, one step the other way, that's it, kitchen covered.

Rose L said...

LOL My cat, Mooshoo, loves boxes and bags. She would leap from box to box, clawing inside each one, until I cut them down and hauled to the recycle bin...all but one. I am a softie.

Yamini MacLean said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Yamini MacLean said...

Hari Om
...if the basement is bigger than the kitchen I'd be dropping hints about architects and kitchen islands...then the current model can revert to being that good old Scottish staple, the box-room; or even the walk-in dressing-up closet!!! YAM xx

the walking man said...

Very perceptive man that Willie is. Although all he needed to say was yes ma'am.

Jo-Anne Meadows said...

Boxes are usually kept in the dining room or the lounge room well in this house they are.....

Rosemarie Blackthorn said...

Enjoy your party darling!
xxx

HermanTurnip said...

Empty boxes tend to sprout cats. At least, that's been my experience.

Diane Tolley said...

Yep. Cats get things done. One way or another . . .