Well, I thought I had seen it all in this quadruple quadruped family, but 16 fast feet always means trouble. Never mind the trouble the human two can. I love it. By measure of pure intelligence, on a human scale, Bella, our Tuxedo cat has genius in her ways. Not only can she open doors, open drawers, the sign of a pretty bright cat, but she can shut them too.

She is also sly. She waits until Velvet, her hissing enemy enters a lower kitchen cabinet I have left open, and then, nonchalantly, closes the door. With her head and body... *Woom!*

This makes for great fun when I'm cooking in the kitchen. You see, Velvet was the master of opening doors; I thought she was so bright, because Cleo will have nothing to do with them. Humans work them. Tell the human what you want, and let them do it. Someone as regal as Cleo does not "DO" doors. She is a throwback to pre-historic Lion cats (she thinks... kill now... eat later).

I digress. Now Velvet is frantic to get out of the dark space she is in, and I frankly am worried that she might get into some household cleaners, whose complex atomic chemical structure would baffle us all.

I open one of the four doors a bit, hoping Velvet will see the light of day, literally, and come out. 30 seconds pass...

Sweet, Sweet Bella gives me a *me-yoous?" (She's too small to get a real *MEOW* out)

Jumbo Velvet inside the cabinet is just reaching the opened door when Bella falls against it, closing it, (THUMP!) tummy up for a rub. Isn't she sweet. S o innocent. Yeah... right. I let Velvet out by another door under the sink. She turns and looks at Bella, and gives her best *Hissspit!* and leaves.

Bella remains unperturbed on her back, getting a scritchie from dad. She thinks through narrowed eyes: "Ah yes... some have it, some don't."

We'll see.

Copyright © Bill Mason
April 30, 2002