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 . . .