Unbelievable!

Today as I was leaving the bathroom, I noticed a black shape at my feet. It was Raven, the cat. His tail was sticking straight up, and his bright white bottom was aimed at my feet. I noticed a thin line coming from the cat connecting to my pants leg. He was relieving himself on me! I was the hydrant to his dog! I must have bellowed an oath, because he shot away and ran upstairs.

I couldn’t believe it; I’d been peed on by a cat! When Karla came in the house after feeding Geronimo, and I told her about it, she could hardly contain herself. “He was getting even with you for putting George on the couch,” she laughed. George, who is bigger than Raven, is our stuffed cloth trout who lives on the bed by the pillows. Most mornings, when the cat jumps on the bed, I grab George by the tail end and make subtle, menacing motions toward him. It almost always works—he jumps off the bed and complains by uttering those low growly yowls that cats do when they’re angry or frustrated. Yesterday I put George on the couch where Raven loves to sleep during the day after wolfing down his belly-busting breakfast. Turns out it didn’t have the desired effect; the cat just pushed the fish out of the way and slept next to it.

But I guess Karla is right. She said maybe peeing on me was the only way the cat could express his disdain. I am still looking for a fake snake that will strike out when you push the button on a remote control. Meanwhile, I’ll keep using a little trick my dad used to play on our way-abundant herd of cats. He’d be sitting innocently in a chair, reading the newspaper, and when a cat walked by he’d scuff his shoe on the floor, making a little “chiff” sound. The cat would leap in the air and continue walking. It worked 100% of the time, and was most satisfying, especially when your timing was really good and the cat was walking under a low table. Chiff. Bonk! Cool.