Antiguan Adventure #1:Theo and the Grackle

             This is my third time visiting Antigua, a small Caribbean island, and Dan's first. I love the warm climate, blue skies, beautiful vistas, palm trees, infinity pool and beaches. Dan does too, but his obsession is to play tennis. Theo, the gangster cat,  . . . well,  I promise him sunny days on the veranda and lots of snacks. And, of course, an adventure.

         We arrive. The scenery is stunning. The ocean is so close you can smell it. The houses are pink, yellow, green and all shades bright and cheery. 

          Dan, as usual, shares some history of this delicious island with Theo. "Antigua was originally a British colony. The island was dotted with sugar plantations. The British also made rum. The native Antiguans who lived here, mostly slaves, had a terrible standard of living."

          We're not sure if Theo is listening. He's gazing out the window of the taxi, seemingly lost in thought. Is he more impressed by the beautiful scenery and less by the history of Antigua? 

       

          "Antigua gained its independence in 1981."

           Still, no response from Theo.

           "There are  365 beaches. Mostly all public beaches. And the island is only 108 square miles."  

            "That's a lot of beaches," I add. 

            Still, Theo hasn't said a meow. 

            We arrive at our villa and immediately change into our bathing suits. From our veranda, the lovely pool awaits.  The sun is shining. 

           "Come on, Theo." I figure what harm can he get into hanging out by the pool? Sure enough, he spots a lounge chair and hops up. 

            "Time for a nap," I suggest.

            I often wonder what the world looks like from a cat's point of view. As Dan and I admire the scenery and the architecture of the houses AND long to jump into the water, what is Theo thinking? 

            I glance over and he's closing his eyes, about to drift off. Purrfect. 

            Well, best laid plans. You know what they say. In our defense we are lulled by the Caribbean breezes and, perhaps, dulled by the two glasses of Rum punch that we find in our suite. The water is so refreshing after the usual nonsense plane ride that we lose ourselves in the moment.  

            A bird lands on the tile surrounding the pool. From a distance it looks brown with some purple plumage.  Could it be the Carib Grackle? I've heard things about this bird. Highly aggressive. Smart. They're excellent at foraging for insects on the ground and not above flying into restaurants and stealing food right off the tables. 

            I grab my iPhone and figure, if this bird is up to no good, I'm going to catch him in the act. 

            The problem is I'm so intent on capturing the video, I miss the possibilities. Theo. He sees the bird, too. His mouth opens, and I hear Theo making those sounds that cats make when they're envisioning a full course meal--ch, ch, ch. Suddenly he's sitting upright. His tail has fattened, and it's waving like mad. He's crouching. NO . . .

           Theo jumping off the lounge chair and lunging for the bird plays like a scene in a disaster movie. 

           "Stop," I scream.

            The bird doesn't even turn its head. But I suspect the so far innocent bird can sense danger coming its way. 

             Theo, our little gangster cat, is in mid air when the bird moves, an elegant side step that catches Theo unaware. Theo crash lands onto the very wet deserted tile and with so much momentum pushing him forward, begins to slide toward the edge of the pool. 

            I can see it all clearly. Theo careening into the waiting water. Splashing about. I can't think. Can cats swim? There's the doggy paddle, but what about cats? Theo actually likes water, but swimming?  

             "Get Theo."

             But, no, he doesn't slide into the pool. Later, when we discuss the incident, I ask Theo pointblank. "What were you planning to do?"

             Theo shrugs. "I only wanted to sniff him."

              I narrow my eyes. "You can not commit murder near the infinity pool."

              Theo shrugs. "I do what I have to do. See?"

               That is not the answer I'm hoping for. "I mean it, Theo."

               Dan interrupts, "You know the bird we saw near the pool--it  wasn't a Grackle. I think it was a pigeon."

               "What?"

              Little do I know, this eternal struggle between cat and bird will continue. See you next week for Part 2.

               

             

               

Cats--Only Kids in Disguise?

      It used to be so easy to go on vacation. It used to be so easy to leave them behind. Hire a cat sitter. Clean the liters. Leave detailed instructions. Arrange their food on the counter.  There were days when I left five furry cat babies behind. 

       Then, when Chuck traveled with us, we left three cats behind . . . and therein lies the problem. Not with Theo who knows the drill. 

        But . . . that we're planning to leave Mico and Sienna behind. 

        Because something strange has happened in the last few weeks. They have become less like cats and more like kids. It is as if they are reincarnated small kids who have somehow found their way into our cat's bodies. 

         Is it me? I don't think so. After all, I see plenty of evidence of this phenomena on Facebook: Cats dressed up in outfits (it used to be only dogs but now cats are wearing little jackets, booties and hats). Cats treated to spa days--wearing robes, getting massages, and having cucumbers placed on their eyes. Cats talking or they seem to have some kind of human voice that is projected onto the video as if the owner feels sorry for them and feels the need to turn their meows into words. 

          I can identify with treating your cats like kids, but I'm talking about when your cats actually start acting/looking like kids. 

         Here's my evidence:

         Sienna sleeps on our bed now and puts her head on our pillow. Just like a kid would. She hangs out by the stairs, listening into conversations just like we used to do--as kids. And she's always looking out the window to see if her friends are outside playing.

   

      Theo, the little gangster cat, pitifully moans or whines (like a kid in pain) when he wants more snacks. He's already put his toys on top of my suitcase for the trip. And his paws look more like fingers--kid's fingers.

        

          Mico uses his golden eyes. He trains them on you whenever he feels like he's not being treated with respect. He eats the plants as if they were candy, like a kid. And he sulks like a kid, sometimes hiding under the guest bed for hours. 

           Dan said, "Are you sure you really want to go?"

          "Are you kidding me?" (But I was thinking the same thing.)

          "I'm going to miss them."

          "Shsh. They'll hear you." I pause, wondering if this could be some elaborate plan on their part, orchestrated to make us feel guilty. Did Theo watch some program--how to act like a kid to get what you want?

          "Do you think they're acting this way on purpose?"

           "You mean like kids?"

            We stare at each other.  He gulps or I gulp. Why are they so darned cute? We both look back at the suitcases. Soon, we'll begin packing. 

            Then it happens. We walk into the guest room and find Sienna, all curled up and fast asleep--no, not on our master bed but on top of Dan's suitcase. 

             "Maybe we can take all three with us," Dan says as a solution. 

              For a minute, we both smile. Yes. But then reality reasserts itself. They're only cats. Not kids. Repeat after me. Cats. Not kids. Cats.

              Who are we kidding? These cats are our kids!!

             In honor of Chucky, the rascal cat. Gone but never forgotten. We miss him everyday.

   

The Little Sleeping Devils

       It all started when Mico and Sienna found out that Theo was the chosen one. The one picked to follow in Chuck's footsteps. The one who would be going on the next long distance, air plane in the sky flying trip adventure. And they would be staying home.

        Theo has gone on a few one day trips so he's used to car rides, backpacks, behaving himself as much as he can. He buys into the whole idea that traveling and being the star of Hot Blogging with Chuck is an honor and a privilege. Sort of.

       The conversation goes something like this: 

      "Can I sleep on the plane?"

       "Yes."

       "Will there be extra snacks?"

        "What kind of snacks, Theo?"

        "There has to be snacks. See?"

        "All right. Extra snacks."

         Theo always gets straight to the point. 

         "Do they know about my going?"

         Theo is no dummy. He sees the suitcases on the bed. He sees the extra food stacked up on the counter. He knows I've been in contact with the cat sitter. He's put two and two together. On the other hand, the kittens are clueless. They have no idea what a suitcase is and what it means and how it will affect their lives. 

          Until they do. 

          "What does it mean, Theo? Are they coming back?" Mico wants to know. 

           "Of course, we're coming back," I want to shout, but Theo is in deep conversation with Mico. Theo's the alpha cat and needs to handle the questions.

           "This time I'm going. See? Next time, maybe you can go."

           What? That isn't the plan. 

           "Are you coming back, Theo?" Mico asks again.

           I glance into the room. Theo has draped his arm around Mico, big cat brother style. "It's called a vacation. It doesn't last long."

           That's the truth. 

            And, so I think the matter is settled. It isn't. Theo's last statement that next time Mico can go rattles Sienna. Because . . . now she wants to go. Of course, I don't know this until all hell breaks loose. 

            First, they avoid each other. Two kittens, who can't stand to be apart for longer than a mini-second, now are hanging out in separate rooms and barely meowing with each other.

            Then, they are chasing each other through the house like a bunch of wild banshees. First a steak of white and gray. Then a streak of orange. Down the stairs. Through the hallway. Across the living room. Treacherous turn into the kitchen. Through the hallway. Up the stairs. It sounds as if we have 100 kittens racing through the house. 

            Finally, the fight. On the master bed. Which by some stroke of luck I've covered in a green blanket to keep their cat fur off of the comforter. Now it can protect the comforter from any blood stains. if it gets to that.

            It doesn't. It seems the "fight" is only a wrestling match between two spoiled kittens who both want what they can't have. 

            Theo later tells me he solved the entire problem (he caused.)

            "Well, what happened?"

            "I grounded them. See?"

            "And no snacks?"

            Theo looks horrified. 

             "Where are they now?"

             "Sleeping."

        "Like angels," I want to say, but I know the truth--those little sleeping devils!

Theo's Gangsters at Play?

      One week later. You might be thinking. How is it going with those New Year's resolutions?    

        The jury is still out. I've been exercising more. Reading more. Eating healthier. Watching less trashy TV? Oh, you want to know about the gangster cats . . . how are their New Year's resolutions going.

        Are they begging for more snacks? Playing more? Sleeping more? Let's examine the evidence. This evening for instance. I hear Sienna on the stairs, engaged in some life and death struggle with an inanimate object that doesn't look like anything in particular. I call it playing. You tell me.

       Sienna says, "I'm honing my mouse catching skills, mom." 

       The day before Theo, Sienna and Mico are engaged in more active pursuits. "It shows up out of nowhere. See?" Theo says. "What are we supposed to do? Flashing colors and lights. Going here. Going there. Banging against walls. Under beds. It's possessed. See?"

        Mico said, "We think it might be after our snacks, right Theo?"

        "Oh, so in other words, you weren't actually playing with that mouse toy your aunt gave you for Christmas, you were  involved in a major investigation."

          

          Theo doesn't answer. He only strikes his typical gangster pose.

         And then there is the flopping fish incident. Sienna says, "Two giant fish suddenly appear. Out of water. They don't say anything. Just flop around."

         "They make this weird sound," Mico chimes in. "I chased them down the stairs." Mico still has this wide-eyed look on his face as if he'll be traumatized forever.

          "Flopping fish. You're referring to those fish I brought home from Costco as a present. I suppose you're going to say it was your sworn duty to apprehend them," I say. 

           The upshot of the entire conversation is that these three gangster cats insist they're not playing more, they're only doing what they have to do--practice their mouse catching skills, investigate strange objects that suddenly appear in the house, capture flopping fish. And, as for sleeping more?

           "Not us", they meow in unison, just before Mico hops into his big luxurious bed even though it's two o'clock in the afternoon. 

             

The Gang's New Year's Resolutions

    New Year's Resolutions.  The promises you make to yourself at the beginning of the new year. Maybe you tell someone else or maybe you write them down. Typical resolutions: Exercise more. Eat less. Or eat healthier food. Read more. Watch less trashy TV. Be a better person. Which means be kinder to those people who irritate you. Clean your house more. Call your mother more. All well intentioned. 

    I decide that our three new kitties--Theo, Sienna and Mico--can benefit from setting New Year's resolutions. At the time it seems a good idea. I explain the concept to Theo. 

    "Theo, your mission is to come up with three resolutions. See what Mico and Sienna think. The trick is to find things that can make your lives better."

    Theo, the little gangster cat, is lounging on the sofa at the time. He's just finished breakfast, and although I think I see him nod, he also appears to be giving me the slant eye. I could be wrong.

    I go off to write out sample resolutions. Of late, since Mico and Sienna have arrived, their behavior--putting aside the assault on the Christmas tree--has been mildly atrocious. 

    My sample list:

    1. We will stay off the dining room table. Always.

    2. We will not eat the plants or jump on the plant stand.

    3. We will not use dad's toothbrush as a toy and hide it under the guest room bed.

     This is not a random list. Each one of these behaviors is well documented. And, they know they should not be doing these things. Nevertheless, if either Dan or I come down the stairs, we will, on various occasions, catch any one of them stretched out on the dining room table in the small patch of sun that is shining through the window. Immediately, they will jump down onto the chairs and pretend to be engaged in some other activity. The little hoodlums. We have found Dan's toothbrush under the guest room bed. AND the plants on the plant stand are slowly disappearing as if by magic with only remnants of what used to be a plant on the floor.

    Fast forward. It is my opinion that all resolutions should be formalized by New Year's Eve. I confront all three of them on the upstairs landing. It is clear they've been conferring. Of course, when they spot me, Sienna pretends to pay attention. Mico begins to groom his coat. Theo heads for one of the tunnels in the cat tree--to hide.

    "Theo, your list. Three resolutions."

    Theo moonwalks back to the center of the landing. This is his big moment. He does not have a loud meow, but he meows with confidence. 

    1. We will eat more snacks.

    2. We will spend more time playing.

    3. We will guard our house from all intruders, especially those pesky squirrels and birds.

    I can hardly believe my ears, but before I can say a word, six eyes are on me, waiting for my reaction. This is a teachable moment. Where did I go wrong? My own words come back to haunt me--the trick is to find things that can make your lives better. 

    And that's the difference between cats and humans. They live for the moment. They play. They dream of snacks. And they sleep the most heavenly of sleeps. We humans, on the other hand, come up with ways to make our lives better (or more miserable)?

    "Good job, Theo," I hear myself saying. 

    "Is it snack time?" Mico meows. 

     Sienna is not pretending now. She is really listening!

      Have a Happy New Year!!!