The Adventures of PadFoots & ToeBeans - Official Household Record #002
….these are my new staff???
….is that a dinosaur???
MY NEW ESTATE - MEETING MY NEW STAFF
The journey from PetSmart ended at a house.
I knew it was a house because Big Human carried my transport chamber through the door and immediately three enormous noses appeared.
Three.
At once.
Pressed toward the little holes in my carrier.
SNIFF. SNIFF. SNIFF.
Excuse me.
I had been in my new residence for approximately four seconds.
Apparently there was no screening process for employees.
“Back up.”
Big Human said it once.
And, remarkably, the noses backed up.
Interesting.
I looked at Big Human.
I looked at the retreating noses.
Then back at Big Human.
Noted.
This one had authority.
Lil Human appeared next.
She was very small, very excited, and immediately began issuing instructions with the confidence of someone who believed herself to be upper management.
She was not.
Adorable.
But not management.
Big Human was clearly Head of Security.
This was important information because, although Big Human did not realize it yet, I was obviously in charge.
Every important cat requires competent security.
I had chosen well.
Big Human carried me upstairs to the master bedroom.
Finally.
My quarters.
The door closed behind us, separating me from the collection of noses downstairs.
I stepped from my transport chamber and began inspecting the accommodations.
Bed.
Acceptable.
Blankets.
Acceptable.
Windows.
Excellent surveillance potential.
Big Human.
Still present.
Good.
Then the door opened.
One of the enormous creatures entered.
I prepared myself.
She approached slowly.
Brindle and white. Soft eyes. Gentle nose.
She sniffed.
I sniffed.
She seemed deeply interested in me without appearing interested in eating me.
This was Matilda.
The Nanny Dog.
The Ambassador.
Apparently, when new creatures arrived, Matilda was dispatched first because Matilda possessed something the others lacked:
common sense.
She looked at me.
I looked at her.
She wagged.
I allowed it.
She seemed to understand immediately that I was small, important, and under Big Human’s protection.
Excellent.
First employee: approved.
Then came Buddha.
Buddha was old.
Very old.
He moved like a retired security guard who had been called back into service against his wishes.
I was told that everyone had once believed Buddha could never live with a cat.
Apparently his previous opinion of cats had been less “potential friend” and more:
“potential entrée.”
Comforting.
He entered the room.
Saw me.
And his eyes changed.
SHARK EYES.
Oh.
So the rumors had merit.
Matilda stood nearby.
Big Human was beside him.
Nobody panicked.
Big Human spoke calmly to Buddha.
Buddha looked at Big Human.
Then at Matilda.
Then at me.
I remained where I was because fleeing would have suggested I was prey, and I had no intention of introducing myself incorrectly.
Big Human gave Buddha guidance.
Matilda provided backup.
And somehow, this enormous old dog who everyone said could never be trusted with a cat…
listened.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until eventually the shark eyes disappeared.
He learned.
Big Human trusted him enough to show him what was expected.
And Buddha, apparently deciding that disappointing Big Human was worse than not eating the cat, rose to the occasion.
Eventually, we became buddies.
I would later learn this was something nobody thought Buddha would ever be capable of.
Big Human did.
So he did.
I respected the old man for that.
Second employee: probationary approval.
Then came Malachi.
Oh dear.
Malachi entered the bedroom and looked at me like Christmas morning had just achieved consciousness.
His ears went up.
His eyes went wide.
His entire body vibrated.
I could practically hear the thought forming inside his enormous empty head:
OH.
MY.
GOD.
IT MOVES.
He bounced.
I moved.
He bounced harder.
I moved faster.
This was apparently the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.
“MALACHI. NO.”
Big Human intervened.
Malachi froze.
Mostly.
His body froze.
His brain absolutely did not.
His eyes followed me.
His tail wagged.
I could see every terrible idea passing through his head.
Chase it?
Pounce on it?
Lick it?
Put its entire head in my mouth?
NO, MALACHI. YOU MAY NOT CHEW ON THE CAT.
Malachi appeared devastated by this unreasonable workplace policy.
Fortunately, Malachi occupied the lowest position in the existing hierarchy.
Matilda outranked him.
Buddha outranked him.
Big Human unquestionably outranked him.
Lil Human probably outranked him.
Furniture may have outranked him.
So by the time he was introduced to me, everyone else had already made the expectations perfectly clear:
The cat is not a toy.
Malachi disagreed.
But Malachi also knew his place.
Mostly.
Third employee: enthusiastic but requires supervision.
Eventually, Big Human opened the bedroom door.
I was granted access to the rest of my estate.
Finally.
I descended the stairs.
Matilda followed.
Buddha followed.
Malachi followed until Big Human reminded him that following someone six inches behind their butt was not technically giving them space.
I surveyed the living room.
Couch.
Excellent.
Windows.
Excellent.
Several elevated surfaces.
Promising.
Then I saw it.
In the corner.
A cage.
A very large cage.
And inside it…
a dinosaur.
Blue.
Gold.
Enormous beak.
Eyes that suggested advanced intelligence and questionable ethics.
This was allegedly a “bird.”
I had seen birds before.
This was not a bird.
This was a pterodactyl.
His name was Ezra.
Ezra looked at me.
I looked at Ezra.
Neither of us blinked.
Then he made a noise so loud I briefly reconsidered whether my ears were necessary organs.
WHAT.
WAS.
THAT.
The dogs did not react.
Big Human barely reacted.
Apparently everyone had simply accepted that the prehistoric creature in the corner periodically attempted to ensure no one in the household retained functional hearing.
I studied him more carefully.
Beak.
Concerning.
Feet.
Concerning.
General attitude.
Extremely concerning.
I wasn't entirely certain whether Ezra wanted to eat me, yell at me, or begin negotiations.
But then I noticed something.
The cage.
Specifically…
the top of the cage.
It was magnificent.
High above the room.
Unobstructed views in every direction.
The single best surveillance platform in the entire house.
My surveillance platform.
There was only one problem.
The dinosaur currently occupying the airspace beneath it.
Hmm.
I sat down.
Wrapped my tail around my paws.
And considered my options.
Perhaps this creature would need to be conquered.
Perhaps overpowered.
Perhaps psychologically dominated.
Whatever the method, one thing was certain:
I would eventually sit on top of that cage.
I took one step toward it.
“MARLOWE.”
I stopped.
Big Human.
Again.
Apparently she had anticipated the plan.
Interesting.
I looked at the cage.
Then at Big Human.
Then back at the cage.
She picked me up.
Picked. Me. Up.
And returned me to my temporary confinement.
Outrageous.
I stared through the doorway at the blue-and-gold dinosaur.
Ezra stared back.
This matter was clearly unfinished.
But I had been in the house less than a day.
There would be time.
After all…
I lived here now.
And Big Human couldn't possibly watch me forever.