ADVENTURES IN BABYSITTING (CATS)

My daughter (who is very particular about her two cats) went out of town and I volunteered to babysit. This wasn't vitally necessary because she has an agency that does that, but I was eager to spend time in her new house with the enormous flat-screen TV with hundreds of channels. I could lie on the couch and watch dozens of old Law& Orders, and old movies and take showers in the elegant bathrooms. And cats? I've had a cat, sometimes two of them, all of my life and forsaw no problems with these two. I could clean a cat box with the best of them and I knew not to ever let them out of the house, because in Tucson the coyotes know no mercy.

Well, it didn't exactly work out because the cats got the better of me. Apparently one of them is an extremely sensitive and shall we say, highly neurotic cat who immediately went into his act. This was to disappear completely for four days and not eat a bite during that time. I looked and looked through every cabinet and nook, and could only occasionally see him. When I did, he ran in fear and disappeared again. I put out plates and plates of cat food (all different varieties), sang different songs thinking he might like the sound of a human voice. The other cat ate all the food as quickly as he could wolf it down, but as far as I knew the black and white one was slowly starving and would not be alive when my daughter returned. What I would do in that event I could not imagine - I would probably have to move to Colorado or somewhere. Finally I found him- he was in his cat carrier lodged as far back as he could go. I tried to get him out of the carrier but he wouldn't budge. At least he was still alive! I'm sorry to say that I picked up the cat carrier and dumped him out upside down. Then I put a plate of food (salmon and shrimp feast) on the floor of the closet and shut the door. When I returned at the end of the day it was still there (untouched) and he was back in the cat carrier. Score : Cat, one. Shirley, zero.

Finally the day came when my daughter would return. He was still alive, because I caught a glimpse of him that morning, going into a closet. I pulled out while the going was good. At least I could say with a clear conscience that he was O.K. when I left. My daughter said that he was waiting at the garage door when she returned, ate three plates of food, and has been happy ever since. When I come to visit, he prances around and looks at me with triumph in his eyes. In any contest of wills (and you know this) a cat .is always the winner. I personally believe the cat needs therapy.