Home Turf for Gangster Cat

 Theo's fans are clamoring--who is Theo, the gangster cat, really? What does he do when he's at home? So, I'm sharing photos of what his day to day life is like, whether he's perched on the dining room table (to see a bird out the window) or stretched out in casual style on my favorite writing chair.

First, Theo is the oldest of three cats. His two siblings (twins) are about two years younger than he is: Michelangelo (orange and white) and Sienna (mostly white with tips of gray).

Theo was adopted (or as he sees it--kidnapped) a few years ago from Tabby's Place, a privately owned cat shelter in New Jersey. He was rescued from a clinic where for 2 1/2 years they did animal testing--mostly for vaccines. At Tabby's Place, he was incredibly shy. It took some time for his true nature to emerge--a slightly sardonic, slightly sarcastic traveling man who has a heart of gold. 

He rules the household with an iron fist. No nonsense is his motto. He's not easily ruffled or insulted. At times Mico (nickname for Michelangelo) will chase him through the house, stalk him from a nearby sofa, or try to steal his snacks. Sienna is known for grooming him one second and then smacking him seconds later. Theo barely reacts. 

"I have their number," he assures me, fully understanding that the twins were feral and lived in a barn outside for the first few months of their life. Luckily, they were rescued (kidnapped) and taught some social skills. Still, Theo and I know the twins are wild to the core--they just know how to disguise it. 

That doesn't mean they don't do things together. Often the three of them are lined up at the patio door, furtively watching a squirrel or bird carouse outside. They take turns on guard duty, making sure that other cats don't invade their space. Because we have catnip growing outside, neighborhood cats like to come around and sniff. 

Usually, Sienna will smack the glass with her paw to scare them away, while Mico races from window to window, tracking their escape. Theo, his tail blown up like an oversized balloon, sometimes stays with Sienna and sometimes runs around with Mico. 

They take their sworn guard duty very seriously. 

The best times are when they play with a scratching board (covered with dry catnip) and hit a small ball around and around a groove, trying to hit it, then catch it. Or when they lounge around, ready to chant in unison: we have nothing to do.

The worst times are when we catch them--heads huddled together--plotting. Theo at these times is the spokesperson cat--meowing and explaining that we're three minutes past the due time for a snack or negligent in not turning on the nature channel so they can drool over the birds. 

For the record, Mico and Sienna hate when Theo goes traveling. They've written up several petitions alleging the grevious offense of leaving them alone. Even though they absolutely love Rachel, their cat sitter. 

Theo tries to talk sense into them. Really? You want to travel? And then he tells a harrowing tale of what can happen when you're out there in the wild world. 

"But you're a star," they argue. 

Theo shrugs because, after all, he may be a star, but Theo is still the gangster cat and that's the way it will always be.

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.