We bought a bread box yesterday, and it came in its own cardboard box. A white glossy cardboard box with a hinged top.

Several hours after the bread box had taken up residence on the kitchen counter, Pippin started getting into everything that we were trying to do. In an effort to distract him, we put the bread box box on the sofa and put him into it. Then we lowered the lid. Pippin adores boxes and being inside a closed box is as close to kitty Nirvana as he can get. Well, Mithu heard something in the box on the sofa. He jumped up onto the armrest next to the box. He stepped onto the lid cautiously and started sniffing around the edges.

Mithu weighs about 12 pounds, and the cardboard is more decorative than structural. Sure enough, the top caves in, pinning Pippin beneath it in a little tent-like area. Pippin starts scrabbling inside, which incites Mithu to start scratching at the mysterious creature under the lid. Little bits of Pippin are sticking out along the edge of the collapsed lid, and Mithu is trying desperately to catch them as Pippin tries desperately to pull them in. The glossy surface of the cardboard makes Mithu slip and he falls all the way into the box. The whole thing explodes as Pippin punches his way out, covered with little flecks of left-over Styrofoam.

Clutching my sides, I watch as Mithu nudges open the lid and crawls inside. Now its Pippin's turn to jump onto the box, retribution all over his face. The whole incident is repeated, roles reversed. Of course, the whole thing was a much bigger distraction than Pippin had been originally, but it was well worth it!

Copyright © Caroline J. Swindell
January 1, 2001