Hank the Terrorist
Cats are furry creatures that come in all sizes, colors and attitudes. People either like felines or they experience a wrenching disgust if they are required to be in a cat’s vicinity.
I’ve made a study and have concluded: There are good cats, great cats, gosh-awful cats and terrorist cats. No matter the category, felines are Nature’s answer to a human being’s presumption of superiority and dominion over “dumb” animals.
Having recently acquired a terrorist cat, my blood pressure has climbed. Hank the Terrorist, was born with seven toes on each foot and unstoppable energy. At a galloping run, he’ll hit the kitchen and surf across the slick floor.
He likes to trim house plants by leaping from the floor like a rocket being launched. Landing next to the plant, he chomps on the leaves. So far, he’s destroyed two of my favorite decorative vegetations. Just yesterday, I arrived home to find a dirt pile, a broken pot and a bleeding ivy scattered all over the living room.
“Hank is musically talented. In the middle of the night, I will be wakened by hearing piano music. He makes up the chords and the tune.”
Hank the Terrorist is a talented spider spotter. Should I observe him seated as if frozen, head thrown back, eyes staring at the ceiling, I surmise he’s spotted a spider. My job is to hasten to grab the broom and knock the arachnid down, whereas Hank will do a high-leaping pounce and practically smack his lips as he eats the spider.
Hank tidies counters, desks, benches, chairs and bedside tables by kicking off loose items. Pens, pencils, paper clips, envelopes, typing paper, paper-back books—nothing is left unmoved unless it’s nailed down.
Hank has unparalleled investigative talents. He can crawl like a snake into a slightly open drawer, open the sliding closet door, dive under the bed and bite my ankles when I walk by.
A highly developed talent of his is paper-shredding. He can reduce newspapers, magazines and important documents to confetti in minutes. Every so often, he likes to hold decathlon shredding bouts. He starts in the kitchen with the paper towel roll, progresses to the bathroom to unravel and tear the toilet paper to bits and finishes the session by clawing out every piece of paper from the cubbyholes in the desk.
Hank is musically talented. In the middle of the night, I will be wakened by hearing piano music. He makes up the chords and the tune.
He’s computer literate. He can type in Sanskrit and insert the words in the middle of whatever I’m writing.
Hank loves water. A sure way to call him is to flush the toilet. As I start to wash my hands, Hank leaps onto the sink and attacks the water streaming from the faucet. He grabs the stream with both paws, trying to bite it, then stuffs himself into the sink basin and bats the water. ❖
