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Monday, March 24, 2014

A Roomful of Gambling Cats

Dolly Gee Squeakers, formerly of the Humane Society Squeakers, sits on the couch, surrounded by cheering basketball fans/members of her scrapbooking club.

“Wolverineth,” she announces.  “All the way, baby!”

The TV on, the volume up, words like “pick and pop”, “fade-away jumper”, and “they’re taking it to the paint”, are volleyed about, enthusiastically and, perhaps, even knowledgeably. 

I briefly reflect on the amount of cat hair on the new couch, make a mental note to stop somewhere later, pick up an extra roll of tape.

Not that the fuzzy little felines lined up on the sofa are concerned about anything but the brackets laid out in front of them.  Utterly consumed with the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament, their noses pointed toward the TV screen, the cats in the living room cannot be bothered with the niceties of keeping their winter coats to themselves.

I will have to talk to Dolly about cat-hair/new-couch etiquette .  One does not simply shed, willy-nilly.

Best I stay in my room. 

“I can’t believe you aren’t out there, supervising.”  I look up from my book, a John Steinbeck novel, as Liza Bean Bitey, of the Minneapolis Biteys, leaps onto the bed.  I roll over, set my book down, stare flatly at her.

“What?” she says, a small smile playing upon her tiny black lips.

“The last party you threw,” I point out, “I ended up locked out on the porch.” 

The small, striped cat laughs softly.  “I brought you cigarettes,” she says.

“I told you I had quit!”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” Liza Bean says, examining a front paw.  “So very dull of you.”

I sigh.  “I shall consider starting again.”

“Well see that you do,” the cat laughs.  I push an index finger toward her, and she leans forward, presses her nose, then the side of her face along the length of it. 

She straightens up.  “Have you seen the buffet?”  Not personally interested in basketball, the cat is, nevertheless, interested in free food.

 “I have not,” I say. 

Liza Bean Bitey, the Hardest Working Cat in Show Biz, leaves, returns momentarily with a plate.

I peer somewhat anxiously at the offered plate. 

I turn back to Liza Bean.

The cat sits primly, wraps her tail around herself, and proceeds to point at the various items on the plate.

“Seven-layered dip – relatively sure that’s sparrow there, between the tomatoes and the avocado.  Corn-meal mouse poppers.  Buffalo gerbil dip –“

“Buffalo gerbil –“

“Usually made with canned shredded gerbil,” Liza Bean explains.

“Of course,” I say.

“And last but not least, of course, meatballs in chili sauce and grape jelly.”

“That is just the weirdest thing,” I say. 

“I know, right?” Liza Bean laughs, shakes her head.  Chili sauce and grape jelly.”


Shelly said...

Fresh gerbils are a much better taste option.

vanilla said...

Oh, the canned shredded gerbil. Salivating; must get a bite to eat.

Anonymous said...

Chili sauce and grape jelly strikes you as weird but not talking cats fixated on betting on mens basketball and how the deuce did Liza Bean manage to bring you a PLATE??????? I want to live in your world Pearl....I REALLY want a talking cat.

esbboston said...

Gamboling cats are the best kind,

Jeanie said...

Between bites of gerbil they were probably dreaming about what they would do if they had Buffet's billion dollar bracket.

Ms Scarlet said...

I want a cat that buys me cigarettes... a nice excuse for the odd puff.

joeh said...

Somehow basketball is a sport for cats...perhaps all the jumping.

Football is a dogs choice...run a play, come back and rest...run a play, come back and rest.

Always love it when the cats come to play at your house.

jenny_o said...

Feeling a little queasy, here; chili sauce and I don't get along.

I think you did the right thing, retiring to the bedroom to read, Pearl. Dolly Gee asks for so little.

Pearl said...

You know, I don't mind their little parties, but all those little paw prints on the glass coffee table...

esbboston said...

I have a picture of Cooper when he was a tiny puppy asleep on the bottom wooden layer of my glass coffee table. I think he turns nine in May.

Daisy said...

Such interesting things go on at Pearl's house!

Indigo Roth said...

What, no guinea pig paté?

Catalyst/Taylor said...

Pearl's Place for Puttytats. Sounds like a great place. I may send Blackwell over.

Yamini MacLean said...

Hari OM
Aw heck, no lizard licorice??? I boycott gatecrashing Pearl's cats' parties until lizard licorice makes an appearance... YAM xx

Anonymous said...

Sparrow always adds a certain "je ne sais quoi"

Elephant's Child said...

Shedding is a fact of life. As is cats fur on all surfaces in my home.

Gigi said...

Yeah...the chili sauce and grape jelly...ummm, no.

Geo. said...

"...canned shredded gerbil.” Grocers mentally add 40 years to my age when I ask for that.

HermanTurnip said...

Hey, I enjoy grape jelly and salt on my eggs. Don't knock it 'til you try it!

Diane Tolley said...

Yeah. Not going to mention this menu to my crew. They go wild over grilled cheese and jam. Heaven knows what they would do if I introduced the possibility of chili sauce and grape jelly!

Steve said...

A good read. I'm not into basketball, but they are.

River said...

Shedding? Shoulda left the plastic on the couch....