Mico and The Drain Stoppers

      We've never lived with a cat like Mico. He's cute as a button, faster than a speeding bullet as he careens around corners, and as wily as a fox. He looks like an angel when he's sleeping. When he's awake, this perky one year old rapscallion is always hatching a plot--to secure more snacks or more toys.

       Well, the truth is everything Mico sees or smells is a toy. 

        After Theo solves the missing mouthguard case, Dan and I put ourselves on high alert. 

        "We can't leave anything out."

         "Absolutely nothing."

         "Agreed."

        We think we're smart. We have the immediate situation under control. But then the unthinkable happens. Two drain stoppers in two different sinks upstairs disappear. Drain stoppers? To explain how mysterious this is (by this time we have a sinking feeling in the pit of our stomach--no pun intended--that Mico, that dextrous nymph is somehow involved) you must realize that Mico must have taken his two front paws, brought them together and lifted the stopper out of the hole that it sits while balancing himself in the sink.  

        We canvas the entire house. All the usual haunts--under beds and behind dressers. We check, of course, the stairs where Theo found the mouthguard.

       No drain stoppers. Nothing is ever easy.

        Every time I use the upstairs bathrooms, I feel sick inside. It's an eyesore. The sink drain sits there, totally exposed. 

       Finally, in desperation, we discuss in whispers how to solve the problem. 

       "What can we offer Theo to get him to help?" Dan asks.

       "Maybe we can sit him down and just ask him."

        Dan laughs. But it works. Theo, within a matter of seconds, finds the missing drain stopper for the hall bathroom. I feel so grateful I let him eat a Tuna and Scallop Churo all by himself. 

         Practically on hands and knees, we beseech Theo to find the other drain stopper. The one for the master bathroom. Theo shrugs. 

         Days go by. No drain stopper. We imagine that Theo is engaged in intense negotiations with Mico, trying to discover where he's hidden it. 

         Three mornings later I'm in the kitchen putting out three bowls of food, but only Theo is pacing back and forth, slipping between my legs, impatient for his food. 

         Where are Sienna and Mico? We check all the rooms, under all the beds, in the closets . . . and finally turn to Theo, who by this time has eaten his breakfast.

         "We give up. Where are they?"

         His eyes get bigger than usual.

         "With the drain stopper," I guess, half kidding.

         Theo leads us up the stairs, down the hallway and stops at the hall bathroom. He nods. "I had to do it, see?"

        We look in. The room is totally empty. Except . . .

         "You don't think . . ." We whisk the shower curtain aside. Two guilty kittens stare back at us. Sienna and Mico. 

          And behind Mico--the drain stopper.

          Theo explains, "I told them it was today. See? When I was going to turn them in."

          I grab the drain stopper. Sienna is watching me. Mico is pouting in the bathtub, refusing to come out.

 

        Then it hits me--I've got the stopper, but I can't put it back in the drain where it belongs--Mico will take it again. So, in the drawer it goes. And the sink drain sits there, STILL totally exposed. 

         But we relent. Days later we reinsert the drain stopper with a new plan. Push the button to make sure it is lying flat in the sink. Then pour water over it so Mico will have to wet his paws to even get near it.

         Self satisfied that we've solved the problem, we relax. But . . . one day someone forgets to push down the stopper and put the water on top of it. 

          Yeah, Mico strikes again. This time Theo says, "Mom . . ." So now we have one drain stopper in the drawer and one drain stopper who knows where . . . 

           If Mico wasn't so cute . . .

         

         

        

         

          

The Case of the Missing Mouthguard

        We rely on Theo to keep order at home. He is the oldest of our three cats. In the beginning, Theo was not overly fond of Mico and Sienna. They arrived with some strong feral tendencies. Theo saw them as intruders on his space, his home.

      Theo was tutored by Chuck, the original rascal cat. But he had to establish his own identity. The title "gangster cat" is no accident. He proved he was more than capable of dealing with the two wild ones.

      

 

         Case in point--it is early, very early in the morning. Dan wakes up. It is still dark in our bedroom. Without thinking too much about it (and this is where he makes his BIG MISTAKE), he removes his professionally designed mouthguard and attempts to put it on the nightstand.

       He misses. The mouthguard falls to the floor. We hear it clatter on the hard wooden surface. 

       "Darn it." He reaches down to retrieve it. He feels around where he knows it fell. Gone. Vanished.

        Later we calculate that, perhaps, two seconds elapsed before he reached down for the mouthguard. Two seconds.

        We look everywhere. Lights are turned on. We're on our hands and knees looking under the bed, under the dresser, under the blankets even, doubting now whether we heard a clatter at all.

         An ugly thought pops into our collective consciousness. Michelangelo. Mico took it.

         But how is that possible?

         Slowly, we piece together what must have happened--Mico was under the bed (sleeping in the cat bed). He must have heard the clatter, immediately thought "I'm getting a new toy" and absconded with the mouthguard. 

         Eww. In his mouth. Geez.

         Now, the search expands--a full house search is initiated. First stop includes a thorough search of the guest room across the hall--under the bed--but no mouthguard.

         Time elapses. "We'll never find it," Dan mutters, clearly discouraged.

          We ask Sienna, Mico's sister, but she offers up no new information. 

         But, who wanders in--looking for breakfast. No, not Mico. Theo.

         "Hey, buddy. We need your help."

         A deal is offered--Theo will look for and hopefully find the mouthguard. We'll go downstairs immediately and make him a delicious breakfast.

        Theo hesitates.

        "And," I quickly add, "I'll give you a snack right this minute."

        Theo agrees. (I would have eventually offered the entire bag of Science Diet dried cat food if I had to.) 

        We start to tell Theo where we've already looked, but he's not interested. He eats his snack in one gulp and walks out into the hallway where he proceeds to groom. 

         "Look." I point at Theo with an accusatory finger. "The gangster cat is taking his own sweet time finding your mouthguard."

         "I think we've been scammed," Dan says. "He has no intention . . ."

         But we're wrong. Theo goes to the landing, looks down at the stairs that connect to the first floor, and starts going down. I'm about to call his name, when he stops, leans over and starts coming back up the stairs, carrying the gooey clear-colored mouthguard in his mouth. He drops it unceremoniously on the floor in front of us and saunters off. 

          We have two reactions. One--we're darned glad to have the mouthguard back. Two--we think Theo knew where that darned mouthguard was all the time.  

           But a deal is a deal. A magnificent breakfast is served. After all, he solved The Case of the Missing Mouthguard. And, of course, Mico is nowhere to be found.

The Allure of Fish

      I've had enough of Admiral Horatio Nelson, naval man extraordinaire. But Dan has promised Theo we will see more. Leaving Shirley Heights, we journey down to where the harbor sits, to the town that was built to provide for the needs of the military that were stationed there. 

        Today, the town's been revitalized to serve a more modern purpose--stores for shopping and restaurants for eating. But, if you can ignore the hustling and bustling tourists, you can glimpse a world that existed 200 years ago. And, maybe, see some fish.

      "Imagine," Dan says to Theo, "that you were a cat 200 years ago. No cat food from cans. No such thing as Fancy Feast or Science Diet."

       Theo frowns. He doesn't like imagining that scenario. 

       "But there would have been a lot of fish," I reassure him. 

        Theo loves fish--any kind of fish (tuna, scallops, shrimp, white fish), and so he becomes an enthusiastic participant. The tour begins with a stop at a small two story building with light blue shutters. It is on the way to the water, where the fish and boats are. I'm excited. I like boats. Theo, of course, likes fish.

         "This store sells fish," I announce. 

          Theo thinks I mean real fish, the kind you can eat.  So he is raring to go inside and feast. Unfortunately for him, the fish inside this store are beautifully carved wooden fish, like the ones attached to the front of the building.

 

         Strike One--but still undeterred, Theo marches on. 

         We pass a brick building, which in years past housed the master shipwright, the guy who made all the repairs to the ships in the harbor. He was a highly skilled laborer. 

         Theo asks, "Are there any fish inside?" 

       Strike Two--and Theo cat walks a little slower.

          We pass the Joiner's Loft and Boathouse--which both housed the joiners and gave them a place to work. 

         

        Dan explains, "A joiner is like a carpenter, but a carpenter builds things out of wood and a joiner's main job is to connect wooden pieces without using fasteners, nails, screws or glue. They seamlessly join pieces together using the groove cuts they make. Nowadays," he adds, "a joiner is like a framer."

        Theo listens, squinches up his face, and says only one word, "Fish." Sadly I shake my head. "Not yet. But soon."

         We then move to a beautiful white clapboard house with light blue shutters. Two stories. This is where the naval captain lived with his clerk. It was one of the last homes to be built here in town.

       

         We come to the Copper and Lumber Store, a massive warehouse building with three foot thick walls, which stored copper sheets used to cover vessel hulls. An inner courtyard is open and provides ventilation to the wood stored. The seamen who worked  there slept in the upper story in hammocks. Before Theo has a chance to ask, I tell him, "No fish."

        

       

       The problem is you can smell the salt water and fish. Even I can smell it. Theo is sniffing the air, gazing in the direction of the harbor. 

        I whisper to Dan, "Keep an eye on him. He smells the fish. I think he's going to make a run for it."

       Finally, we are standing in front of the Officer's Quarters, where Royal Naval Officers who were waiting for repairs to their ships were housed. Interestingly, on the ground floor, there were twelve large cisterns holding a total of 240,000 gallons of water, which was collected from the roof. 

       Theo doesn't care. If the cisterns held fish, that might be a different story. But water? He can hardly keep his attention on the building in front of him. 

  

         

         

           

       We try to distract him by pointing out the cannon that is sitting a few feet in front of us. 

      

       We turn to head back, but Theo refuses to move. 

       "What do you think--I can conjure up fish with a magic spell?"

       When Theo wants something, he can let loose the most plaintive, sorrowful cry. It breaks your heart and compels you to do the impossible. 

        "All right. We'll see what we can do."

         He doesn't move.

         "We'll go down to the harbor right now," Dan says.

         Theo's ears perk up, and then he follows his nose. We have to half run to keep up with him. 

         "We're in big trouble," Dan says. "He's going to be expecting fish."

          Let's just say I'm smarter than the average bear. I smile.

          We reach the harbor area and Theo has stopped. We catch up to him.

          For once I'm prepared. I pull out a can of tuna with one of those pull off tops. 

          "Wow. I'm impressed," Dan says. "You outdid yourself this time."

            "Yeah, I figured tuna might come in handy. Or we'd be stuck down at the pier fishing."

            Anything for the gangster cat!

Theo Gets Blown Away

           We are on our way to see an historical landmark. Mostly for Theo, who for some unexplained reason, has taken a liking to Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson, the greatest officer in the history of Britain's Royal Navy. He was a HERO during the same time as when Napoleon rampaged around Europe, and Nelson was sent to Antigua for three years to enforce British laws.

         "This harbor is famous," Dan says, "I don't blame Theo for wanting to see it."

       

  

          I have my doubts, but I don't say anything.

          "There's a lot to see," Dan adds. "A great view. Old military buildings. Officer's quarters . . ."

        

      

      I like great views, but these ruins are still under reconstruction. It's hard for me to imagine the way they used to be. 

        Unfortunately, Dan fails to mention the most important point. It's windy up there on the Heights. Not just a little windy. It feels like you're standing in the middle of a maelstrom. 

          After we pose, I begin to be afraid my camera will get blown out of my hand. Or if I get to close to the edge, I'll get blown down, down, down to the cliff and then topple over. 

          Then, I begin to fear for Theo.

          He is a gangster cat, no doubt about it, and he's not easily shaken. But his curiosity has drawn him forward. He is standing there, and even though all four paws on the ground, his body is being rocked from right to left. Luckily the wind is blowing towards us, so we're not in danger of being swept off the edge and then downward to our death. 

          "Don't go any closer," I warn Theo. "It's too dangerous." 

           He doesn't hear me. Or he can't hear me because my voice is being pushed back into my throat. My eyes are watering. 

           Theo moves forward, getting way too close to the edge. He is too busy sniffing. Dan is standing next to him, in full blown lecture mode:

           "Admiral Nelson's commission means he's in charge of this very English Harbor, in St. Paul Parish, a harbor which served as a safe way to wait out hurricanes, ideal because it has deep waters close to shore. Nelson is also there to maintain (repair, replenish) Royal Navy warships that captured valuable sugar islands in the Eastern Caribbean. The British do this in order to cut off enemy trade and increase their wealth."

         All of this happened decades ago, but Theo doesn't have a good sense of time. He's listening intently as he's being buffeted about on the highest point--Shirley Heights, a military post built by the British. 

         It's clear where the wind is coming from, but I begin to panic. What if the wind switches direction? Even for a second. Theo will have no chance at all. He will be blown off the cliff. He only weighs 10 pounds. 

          "Admiral Nelson is a true war hero. He has a series of remarkable victories. He is a great strategist. Finally, he's killed at the Battle of Trafalgar. Before that, he looses an arm in battle. It's shattered with grapeshot. It has to be amputated."

         Too much information, I think, but Theo is lapping up every morsel.

          Suddenly, the wind pauses. Oh, no. This is it. The wind is about to shift. Theo, who is perched there as still as a statue (even though his fur is standing on edge) is jostled off balance. I'm about to leap forward and save Theo from impending doom. I see him being blown away, disappearing off the cliff.

          But I'm too late.

          Dan leans over and scoops him in his arms, then turns to me. 

          "Are you okay?" he asks. 

          I compose my face. "Very interesting about Admiral Nelson."

          "Great view," Dan says as he and Theo, together safely look at it just one more time. 

          He's right. It is a great view.