So I was walking through my home the other day when a rustling, flapping off-white streak bolted down the hall and across my feet.
I said “Whazzat? Tiny Ghost!”
Across the living room went the thing, then up and over the back of the couch, under the dining-room table, through the kitchen, a blazing streak of flapping wings and thumping feet. Back up the hall to the far end of the couch, under a table, ’round the cat tree, up the back of the couch, shedding shreds of itself, down the hall and into the room.
I realized my cat had gotten her head caught through the handle of a paper shopping bag and was dragging the tattered thing across the house like a cape. I caught up to her in the bedroom, doing laps through the rungs of our loft bed, wide-eyed and tail puffed up bigger than the rest of her in panic.
And I just couldn’t keep from laughing.
She was in a blind panic, could even have been in pain or choking all I knew, but it was just so damn funny and I thought “Catenfreude!”
The pleasure and humor you take when you cat is…