Mar 14, 2016 3 min read

They’re at it again, these cats of mine. They are driving me bananas. I don’t know if they can feel it is spring, or if there is a full moon expected this weekend, or even if it is just a stage of life they are in, but they sure are feeling their oats! I had no idea cats could be so full of energy. The cat I had when I was a girl was much more of a docile guy, I guess. There is nothing docile about my bunch, however.

Last week, my long-haired calico attempted a leap from a window to a chair. She missed her mark, but only by a little. Instead of the chair, she caught my back, leaving three bloody claw marks about three inches long across my right kidney. Before I could even begin to cry, she landed and sped off to another room.

The next day, I came downstairs to put coffee on and was met by the same cat. She was sitting on top of the refrigerator, staring at me like the Cheshire Cat stared at Alice. Startled by the unexpectedness of it, I jumped, at which point she hopped to the floor and strutted away.

Another cat, a black and white tabby, has some peculiar behaviors. He has begun to race through the downstairs, building his speed to a near-blinding pace, and then leap on the back of the couch. Sometimes, he will run completely across the back of it, jump down and run as fast as possible upstairs. Other times, he prefers to leap at the couch and cling by all four feet to the back or side of it, just hanging there until another cat passes by, when he drops on top of them and starts to wrestle.

Just this morning, he climbed the curtains into the window and alit upon the sill, staring out at the traffic passing by the house. Then, as if he could tell I planned to write about cats this week, he pulled the curtain aside and looked around it at me. I could swear he nodded his head in approval.

Even my oldest cat (who came home with me from work a few years ago after being banished from the store for opening a new bag of cat food every night for several weeks in a row) has been getting in on it. He has taken to lying at the bottom of the steps or just around corners and swatting at ankles that pass him by. At least he, unlike the calico, keeps his claws sheathed.

The docile old cat of my youth did not prepare me for having these cats. I only remember him getting up on the table or the counter once. It took me weeks of spritzing these guys with water to train them to stay down. And realistically, I know I have probably only trained them to stay off the counters when I am around!

Perhaps, as with children, I will miss these times when they are gone. Perhaps someday they, too, will be docile and mindful.

Perhaps, if I am lucky, my sanity will hold together until that day comes.

Laura Zoeller can be reached at zoeller5@verizon.net.