I have two seemingly unrelated subjects to discuss today. But at the end of this post you will see that although the topics seem unrelated, they will tie together nicely at the end. Just wait.
We have a freezer in the basement. We mostly use it to hold ice cream - lots and lots of ice cream. But it also holds the occasional loaf of bread, chunk of hamburger, bag of french fries, tub of homemade spaghetti sauce or unidentifiable frozen lump. It's one of those chest freezers so sometimes getting things out of the bottom can be a challenge, but for the most part we are very happy with it.
On to topic #2.
Sometimes I wonder exactly what the cat thinks of me. I grew up with dogs and with dogs you know where you stand. But with cats it's different. You can be petting her one minute as she rolls around and purrs and looks all happy and then the next minute she's shredding your hand like an
industrial food processor going after a chunk of mozzarella cheese. She never comes when you call and when she even deigns to acknowledge that you spoke to her at all, it's to give you a disdainful look - 'yeah dumb-ass. I heard you'' and then she wanders away. She rarely seeks out affection, but will occasionally allow us to pet her if we do it right.
I get some satisfaction when little miss graceful races up the basement stairs for some catty purpose and trips over one of her many feet. She always tries to look like she either meant to do it, or pretends it never happened at all. But I know that under all that fur she is blushing like a mad-woman. And I will snicker and ask if she's OK in a sweet voice. She just prances on by.
Now this is where the two subjects come together.
I was in the basement the other day and I opened the freezer. Of course what I wanted was at the very bottom so I was digging down through the various boxes of ice cream with my head in the freezer and my rump in the air when she jumped up next to me to investigate. I glanced over and she was sniffing at the various boxes and bags and chunks of ice. So I went back to work digging through the contents.
Then, the next thing I know she's leapt to the top of the freezer door and with every muscle in her little kitty body she closed that freezer door right on me! And not only that, she then leapt onto my protruding rump and tried to shove me into the freezer! I actually felt her paws (and claws) as she launched herself off my lower back, shoving with all her evil kittiness.
All of a sudden I knew how she felt about me. I knew
exactly how she felt about me. I am the evil witch from Hansel and Gretel. I am the crone who confines her in the house, not letting her outside to
eat play with the birds and chipmunks. I am the prison guard who controls the food like a greedy hag - only doling out the gravy-soaked kitty chow when I feel like it.
And I had to be disposed of. Mwah ha ha ha.
Of course I shrieked and pulled myself out of the bowels of the freezer, thankful that my butt was big enough to anchor me to the ground outside the freezer, otherwise, where would I be then I ask you? Exactly, just like the witch, but frozen instead of cooked. "Hansel!" I shrieked. "I mean, Dutchess! You evil little kitty!"
But of course, she pretended that nothing had happened and that I imagined the whole thing. She sat and calmly cleaned her ears.
Let me tell you, I now watch my back very closely when I'm baking cookies.
Quack!
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