Leigh Anne Jasheway - Bedtime Stories for Cats

RUMPLED KATZKIN

There once was a computer techniciannamed Howie Katzkin who lived in ahuge penthouse apartment with a beautifulSiamese cat whom he called Phoebe, although shepreferred Miss Felinicity Katamaran.

Howie was very good at his job and he spent almost all of his time at his office downtowneven on the weekends. This meant that Phoebe had that big apartment all to herself. And although she was a proud and independent cat, just once in a while, Phoebe wished someone would rub her ears or stroke her belly. Or at least notice that she had shredded yet another pair of drapes to the point that they looked like giant eyelashes.

Of course, she couldnt very well just come out and express her feelings, not according to the Cat Rules of Etiquette for Dummies. Rule no. 42: Never beg for attention. Only dogs do that.

Days passed, and weeks and months and years. Phoebe had a lot of time on her paws, so she prowled, she roamed, and she watched funny cat videos on YouTube. She even took online courses from Feline U. She had degrees in architecture and art, as well as a certificate in auto repair (she was working her way through the courses alphabetically). Next on the list: belly dancing. She was kind of excited about that because she looked good in sparkly things.

Yep, Phoebe was one talented cat. Unfortunately, no one was ever around to see just how talented she was.

One day, Howie got a text while at the office. He dialed the number, and the voice at the other end of the phone said, King of Late Night Comedys office, court jester speaking. As it turned out, the King had a computer virus. (Perhaps he forgot to wash his hands before he booted up the hard drive.) And when it came to getting rid of computer bugs, Howie was the man. Everyone knew that.

Howie went straight from work over to the Kings studio. He didnt even stop by the apartment to check on Phoebe. It wasnt that he was a bad man; it was just that he was unthinking and insensitive to her needs. Maybe if Phoebe had had computer problems of her own... but the truth was she was just as good with computers as Howie.

As Howie worked on the computer, the King stood nearby and cracked jokes. Howie, not knowing any jokes of his own, and trying not to appear too dull and nerdlike, tried to think of something interesting to say. Finally, the pressure got to be too much and he just blurted out, I have a cat who can impersonate Mariah Carey!

You see, sometimes late at night, when Howie would drag himself home from work, he would hear the unmistakable sounds of Mariah coming from Phoebes closet, where she loved to curl up on the piles of laundry. Now, it is true that it could have just been Phoebe listening to her iPod on full volume, but he thought not.

Wow, exclaimed the King. If your cat is as talented as you say, I guarantee I can make her a star. Bring her by the studio tomorrow morning.

By the time Howie finally got home, it was late. He looked all around the apartment and couldnt find Phoebe anywhere. And there was no music coming from the closet. So he went right to bed.

He couldnt find Phoebe because she was hiding under the bed. She had waited up until midnight, hoping that he would get home and they could at least say good night. No such luck. Needless to say, Phoebe was miffed. While Howie was sleeping, she left a nice big hairball on his pillow.

The next morning, Howie awoke at 7 a.m. He saw the hairball on his pillow, thought it was a spider, and jumped straight up in the air. Phoebe chuckled. (If you dont think cats chuckle, you havent been paying attention.)

Later that morning, while Phoebe was napping, Howie got out her carrier and put her in it. This really ticked Phoebe off. She had rights and getting tossed into a carrier in the middle of a nap violated at least three of them. She hated that carrier. After all, it wasand she could hardly bring herself to say the word plastic .

She was especially mad because she had been dreaming that she won the Feline Powerball Lottery and was waiting for a dump truck to deliver her lifetime supply of cat toys while a clowder of cats waited on the sidewalk to play with the toys and her. And Howie had woken her up.

Howie and Phoebe arrived at the Kings studio at ten-ish. Thats actually what the clock said, tenish. After all, he was in show business.

The King greeted them and showed them to the greenroom. Better warm up those vocal chords, he advised Phoebe as he headed off to makeup.

Howie opened Phoebes carrier, and she shot out like the cork from a bottle of expensive champagne. She landed right on top of a fine leather couch. What, she hissed, is this all about? And let me remind you that I still have all my claws and this couch looks like it would give me a really nice manicure.

Howie explained sheepishly about the King and Mariah Carey. So, can you do Mariah or should I go apologize? Howie asked timidly.

Maybe I can and maybe I cant, replied Phoebe teasingly. What will you give me if I do? Phoebe was hoping hed take a day off and toss around a ball of aluminum foil with her or something.

Ill give you my watch, Howie said. This is not what Phoebe had in mind.

She took the watch anyway and looked at it. It was a really nice watchgold and silver and no plastic. Howie may have been a nerd, but he was a well-paid nerd. She slipped it on over her head. It made an elegant collar. She looked in the mirror.

Oh, baby baby, we belong together, Phoebe sang, sounding just like Mariah Carey.

Howie jumped up ecstatically. You can sing like Mariah. Thats amazing!

Yes, I can sing. I can also do many other amazing things, which you would know if you ever spent any time with me, Phoebe said cattily.

Were going to be rich, Howie continued. Or, richer....

What do you mean, we? Phoebe queried, eyeing him with her piercing green stare. I think I need more motivation. What else can you give me?

While she waited, Phoebe jumped up on the table, which was covered with snacks for the King of Late Night Comedys guests. She snagged a Goldfish cracker from a bowl. Yuck! she yowled. This doesnt taste fishy at all.

Howie watched her prowl around the table looking for edibles and said, How about if I give you my gold ring?

Howie may have been a genius with computers, but when it came to picking up on hints, he was an idiot.

Phoebe took the ring and slipped it on her forepaw. It made a nice bracelet and was fitting for a cat of her great beauty. Who else am I gon lean on when times get rough? Phoebe belted out one more line of her best Mariah Carey song.

Howie grinned and straightened his tie. He looked kind of cute all dressed up, thought Phoebeexcept for those dorky white socks he always wore even though she shredded every pair he brought into the house. He must have kept a stockpile of them at work.

You know, Phoebe lamented, being a star can be very stressful. Im going to need some special attention. She thought shed make her point just a little more clearly. What can you do to ease my stress?

Howie stared at the floor. Then he got an idea. Here, you can have my jacket.

It was a lovely and soft jacket. Phoebe clawed and dug and made herself a nice nest. Exhausted from dropping clues for the clueless, she settled down to take a nap. Dont wake me until its time to go onstage.

Twenty minutes later, a stagehand arrived to tell Phoebe she had two minutes until show time. She woke up and looked at Howie. He looked so sweet and innocent. She decided to just come out with it, rulebook or no rulebook!

You know, Howie, I dont need all this stuff. All I want is some love and attention. And not all the time, mind you. Just occasionally. Rub my ears. Scratch my belly. Let me play with your shoelaces. Do you think you can make that kind of commitment?