Whats been going on in Abel’s head??? Ask a silly question…

“Hey Maggie, check this out!” Toby the cat stood in the doorway wearing the woman’s pants.

Maggie, a small grey short-hair, had been dozing in mid-afternoon sun but had been contemplating a trip to the box. She wasn’t sure if it was urgent enough to get up, but it was close. Now, with Toby strutting around the house in the woman’s pants, she thought that a trip to the box might get too weird to risk. Why did he always pull this shit after she had eaten some spider plant?

She got up and stretched deep and long. “How did you get those off the hanger?” She asked as she sat down in the small square of sunlight, fur bristling with a chill.

“Very carefully,” he replied. “You see, I had to back up to them, stick my legs into the foot holes and do a back flip. I also have to catch the hanger at the high point of the flip and disengage it from the rod. It only took me twenty or so tries to get it right.”

She looked at the fluffy bastard and wondered how he was still alive. By all rights, the fucker should be dead. He was always working on some crazy scheme. His plans were almost always dangerous, but he insisted that since he used the computer to draft the plan, then it had to be right. He would say, “They use this thing to do everything, and they aren’t dead yet. I think that this is where they store their minds. Maybe their entire consciousness!”

She thought about that for awhile and realized that he might be right. Those people were pretty dumb, but they always had heat and food. She also loved them both a great deal. They seemed to grow on you after awhile. Like a fungus.

“That was a pretty slick trick getting them off the hanger, but how are you going to put them back?”

Toby hadn’t given that question much thought yet. It had occurred to him that he would either have to hang the pants back up or make them disappear. Now that he thought about it with some focus he realized that making a sock disappear was one thing, a pair of slick pants was another thing altogether.

Maggie was still waiting for an answer. “Did you know that you have those on inside out?” she asked.

“That only applies if you have two legs.” He replied. “ We have four. Or, maybe we have four arms and I should have two shirts on instead on one pair of pants and a shirt? That would make it much easier to use the box.”

The box! Maggie suddenly realized that the spider plant was on its way out.   She rushed past Toby and up the stairs. Toby followed, tripping and stumbling over the too long pant legs.

“Lizzie will help me get them back on the hanger.” He said as he dragged the pants across the floor and into their room. “She’s tall enough. I can stand on her back and hang them back up.”

Maggie was incredulous. She knew the dog wouldn’t want any part of this. “I doubt it. Don’t you remember what happened last time? She was bleeding and they noticed the scabs on her back.” Maggie couldn’t find the right spot to crap and Toby’s pestering her wasn’t making it any easier.

Hurt, Toby replied, “It was an accident! I lost my footing and had to grab hold to keep from falling. I didn’t mean to hurt her. It was a reflex; my claws just sank right into her.”

“Never the less, she’s not likely to help. You spent an hour stalking her around the house yesterday. I don’t think she trusts you.” Finally, she found a spot. Now to finish before this evil mechanical cat box tried to kill her again.

Toby didn’t hear the last statements. He already had a plan. First he needed some of the old food from last night. The quickest way to make friends with a dog is by feeding it. He would also need a towel, and a hanger.

Toby awoke with the feeling that he was being watched. He turned to see Maggie looking at him with what she called “the thousand yard stare.”

“What the hell!” he exclaimed. “How long have you been there?”

“You never hung those pants back up. They are on the floor in the box room. They should be home any minute now.”

“Damn!” Toby was up and moving. “Lizzie! Where are you? We need your help!”

Maggie never got tired of this. She loped along after Toby. They would find the dog in the big bed. “We don’t need anything.” She said.   “I’m just coming along to watch.”

After what seemed like hours of pleading, begging, and multiple runs down the stairs to get more food, Toby finally talked Lizzie into helping out.

Lizzie wasn’t at all sure that Toby knew what he was talking about, but she did know that he might try to frame her for the pants. Now, here she was with a towel draped over her back and a very heavy cat trying to hang up a pair of fur covered black pants.

“I don’t think you’re doing it right.” Lizzie said. “I think that they have to be folded up before they go on the hook.”

“Hey,” Toby exclaimed. “You just do your job down there and stop moving around. I can barely keep my balance.”

Maggie walked over and sat down in front of Lizzie. “He’s going to scratch you. You know that don’t you? He always scratches you. That towel is just to soak up the blood. He had this planed out from the start. “

Lizzie knew that Maggie liked to mess with her head, but she also didn’t trust either one of these characters. Maggie had a serious spider plant problem, and Toby had anger control issues. Maybe she should just bail? Maybe there is something to eat down stairs? Maybe the people are home?

At that instant, Lizzie’s very short attention span came to an end and she left in search of anything edible. Toby, who had almost finished the job, lost his footing and flipped off her back only to land in a heap on top of Maggie. Both cats instantly began to frantically struggle and claw at anything that was within reach. In the span of less than a second, they went from disorganized heap to full blown conflict. Toby was stronger, but Maggie’s Cat Fu was flawless as usual.

Lizzie couldn’t hear the commotion going on upstairs. The cries of pain and shrieks couldn’t overcome the blissful sound of crunching kibble.

Toby’s ode to a hairy head:

Oh Hairy head, you beckon me with your wavy, golden brown goodness.

I’m powerless to resist a warm ear or a patch of smooth, white neck covered by those luscious locks.

I come to you, with love and passion in my soul.

Only to be rejected.

Retched hair!

I love you so but hate my own weakness.


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