Cold Spaghetti

If you’re the sensitive type, the kind that can’t handle any sort of recognition of the fact that we all own private parts, or worse, sometimes bring them out to play, then I urge you to stop reading now.  Because this may press a button or two.  Not because I’m talking about something related to our current Carnival season.  Because I’m going to talk about my cat.

The cat likes stuffed toys.  Scout has been with us for over 11 years now, since that snowy February night when he was rescued from an abandoned lot, less than a pound and only a few weeks old.  From the start he has been a knead-er, pushing his little paws and purring until he is content to curl up and sleep.  Often, he does this on a blanket or bed.  But when we’re not around, he likes to knead stuffed toys.  We’ll come home to find tufts of fuzz in a trail through the house, leading to where Scout has kidnapped Snoopy or left Pluto in a mess of polyester orange fur.  Making sure anything soft and impressionable is off the floor is important in our house; lest the cat decide to get cozy and half of your teddy bear goes bald.

It seemed like a fairly benign quirk.  Then a few weeks ago, Paul and I entered our bedroom one afternoon to find Scout on our bed, kneading away at a stuffed Lady, from Lady in the Tramp, one of Kate’s favorite toys.  We quickly pulled Lady away from the assault and accidentally flipped Scout over in the process.

He landed on his back with his belly up.  Showing clearly that he was very very visibly… excited.

And then.  With us there staring away at his little red thing pointing up at us, he started to shake.  SHAKE.  I am not making this up.  The bottom half of that damn cat was TREMBLING.

O. M. G.   The cat was getting off on our daughter’s stuffed dog.

All this time, and the cat was going to our kids’ synthetically-filled plushies to get laid.

<I know, I need a moment, too…. but I promise, just stick with me, a chaser is coming.>

Since then, our efforts to protect the kids toys from the love, I mean loooooove, of our cat have improved.  But we still find him occasionally curled up on Will’s pillow, surrounded by rolling paper with catnip scent in the air, laying a little TOO close to that Ugly Doll.  During Mardi Gras, the volume of throws being brought in by the kids makes it more difficult to keep the house to a PG rating.

So when Will walked in tonight from the Morpheus parade, I think I heard Barry White go into overdrive in the cat’s head:

As Kate would say, I KNOW.

—-

So here’s the story of Long-Fellow (as named by Will.)

It started earlier today when I spontaneous cut a piece of cardboard, painted it black, and started cutting up beads.  This was the result.

The sign was a huge hit with Kate at d’Etat.  But Kate got cold.  Granted, it was pretty cold out tonight, even if we did bundle the kids as warmly as possible.

Yes, Kate wore a princess nightgown over her layers and coat.  It was a compromise.

Anyhow, towards the end of d’Etat, Kate got a little tired and cold, so the sign went to Will.  I walked home with Kate while Paul stayed with Will to watch Morpheus.

A rider passed Will a stuffed toy and Will said “Merci” and showed the sign.  Then, he blew her a kiss.  The float stopped and she melted.

She motioned him over to the edge and pointed him our directly so that everyone would know that she had something for him.  Then she pulled out the snake’s head and handed it down to Will.  But she kept pulling and pulling and pulling and Will turned in circles as the snake wrapped around him.

And that was how Will came home — completely wrapped up in a stuffed snake now known as Long-Fellow.

—–

Will was not the only one to take home a prize throw.  Kate, who rebounded after the home-visit, requested “The Girls Parade.”  So we piled up and went back out to take in Muses.  Muses was on the main parade route and had many, many more people than the previous parades.  It was packed!

But.

Kate got a shoe.  It’s her second.

Happy Mardi Gras, Y’all!!