During the Dark Ages when I was not a cat "owner" I volunteered to babysit my friend's two Siamese cats, Natasha and Charlie, while she paid a visit to her home state. What can I tell you -- I was young, I was foolish. She kept asking, Are you sure? The day of her departure arrived, the cats were duly installed in my San Francisco studio apartment, along with all the appropriate kitty accoutrements, and they were kissed goodbye by their trusting human. Thus began a three-week contest to see who could outwit whom.

The fun began the very first night, when I opened the closet door and lowered the Murphy bed. Because this piece of furniture materialized so magically, it was a great novelty for the cats and attracted them like a magnet each time it appeared. Either Charlie or Natasha -- they took turns -- would perch on the edge of the bed and lie in wait for the other to pass under the bed, then the chase would be on. Unlike all the cats I've had of my own since then, these two played all night. No cozying up to my sleeping form. No sweet, innocent purring. And there I was in an uncarpeted apartment with a no-pets clause. After a few sleepless nights of this noisy activity and a few anxious days awaiting the dreaded phone call or notice in my mailbox (what would I tell my friend?), I decided I just would have to shut the cats in the bathroom at night. The first night they scratched at the door a bit, then grew quiet. I went to sleep smug in the knowledge that I had outsmarted them.

Next morning, I found the toilet paper completely unrolled, the entire bathroom "wrapped" as if by Halloween pranksters. No wonder they'd been so quiet! The next night I put the toilet paper on the inner edge of the slippery porcelain bathtub, where it would not be so attractive as it had been on the wall, dangling from the roller. The following morning the toilet paper was lying in the tub, completely unrolled again. The third night, after a day at work of hard thought, I put several inches of water in the tub. Cats don't like water, right? Would you believe that the next day I found a sad-looking, sodden roll of toilet paper drowned in the bathtub? Of COURSE you would.

After that I removed the paper before closing them in for the night, eliminating the nighttime adventures for the rest of the visit. It was lucky for me that I was young and able to sleep through the night without bathroom calls. Believe it or not, this experience only made me realize I wanted cats of my own someday. But I've never had a Siamese -- do you think I'm a complete fool?

Copyright © Lynda Goldsmith
May 11, 2000