The Adventures of PadFoots & ToeBeans #018
THE GREAT SARAH ACCOMMODATION
🐾 In which one very small cat reorganized sanitation, dining, furniture, and several members of staff. 🐾
I have been observing Sarah.
Not because I am interested in her.
I simply find it prudent to keep track of any creature who can climb eight feet vertically, steal my breakfast, and disappear into the house at speeds normally associated with wildlife.
My original concern, of course, was the monarchy.
Lil Human had requested “a girl cat named Sarah.”
Big Human actually went and got one.
There were warning signs.
But I am pleased to report that after extensive observation, I no longer believe Sarah has aspirations toward the throne.
This is primarily because Sarah appears to have no interest whatsoever in governing the household.
Sarah prefers to make demands of it.
There is an important difference.
And nowhere was this more apparent than during what I have come to call:
🐾 THE GREAT LITTER BOX CAMPAIGN.
It began innocently enough.
Big Human provided Sarah with bathroom facilities.
Sarah reviewed them.
Sarah rejected them.
Big Human made adjustments.
Sarah reviewed those.
Sarah rejected those too.
Apparently the laundry room was unacceptable.
Too noisy.
Too enclosed.
Too many machines doing suspicious things.
Sarah had standards.
Unfortunately, she had neglected to provide Big Human with a written copy.
So Sarah communicated through more traditional means.
She pooped in the recliner.
Big Human cleaned it.
An unfortunate incident, everyone assumed.
Then Sarah pooped in the recliner again.
At this point, I believe we must stop calling something an accident and begin calling it correspondence.
Sarah had submitted a complaint.
Big Human received it.
There was no return address.
The recliner was cleaned again.
Then came...
THE BABY GATE.
I have seen baby gates used before.
They block hallways.
They protect rooms.
They contain Lil Humans.
This one was deployed ON A CHAIR.
I sat at a reasonable distance and considered the situation.
A fully grown human being had been forced to construct a defensive perimeter around upholstered furniture...
because of a kitten.
Sarah weighed approximately nothing.
Yet somehow she had already caused Big Human to fortify a recliner.
I began to understand her capabilities.
Big Human, meanwhile, entered a period of intense logistical activity.
Litter boxes moved.
Covers disappeared.
Entrances changed.
Different litter appeared.
Boxes appeared in places boxes had never been before.
At one point there was an open box behind the recliner.
I believe another was in the laundry room.
There may have been more.
I stopped counting.
The kingdom had become one enormous bathroom proposal.
Every morning I would wake up and wonder:
Where will we be pooping today?
Finan had his own opinions because certain litter made him sound as though he had inhaled an entire dust cloud.
Sarah had opinions because she is Sarah.
Big Human had charts in her head.
And I...
had a table.
I remained on it.
This was not my department.
Then Sarah's stomach joined negotiations.
The poop became...
unreliable.
Big Human became very interested in Sarah's poop.
Uncomfortably interested.
Frequency.
Consistency.
Location.
Food.
Big Human examined litter boxes with the concentration of an archaeologist discovering an ancient civilization.
I began avoiding eye contact during these investigations.
There are limits to what a King should witness.
Food changed.
Then changed again.
Pumpkin appeared.
Apparently we now keep pumpkin for cats.
Sarah loved it.
Of course she did.
Sarah has never encountered special accommodations she did not immediately accept as her due.
Eventually her stomach improved.
Wonderful.
One crisis resolved.
Except during the Great Litter Box Shuffle, the household's other digestive liability discovered that cat food had become accessible.
Malachi.
I do not know precisely what happened.
I do know Malachi found kitty food.
Malachi ate kitty food.
And several hours later, Malachi's intestines issued a statement.
Big Human began making emergency nighttime trips outside with him.
So, to summarize the administrative position:
Sarah was pooping where she shouldn't.
Then Sarah was pooping badly.
Finan could not breathe properly around certain litter.
Malachi ate the food involved in solving Sarah's problem and began pooping urgently.
Big Human was moving boxes, barricading furniture, changing food, serving pumpkin, opening doors, closing gates, escorting Malachi outside, and inspecting everyone's digestive output.
And Sarah?
Sarah was having a wonderful time.
She scampered.
She played.
She climbed.
She ate her pumpkin.
She slept.
She woke up and created new opportunities for management.
Not once did she appear concerned that an entire adult human was redesigning household infrastructure around her bowel movements.
Sarah simply existed with the serene confidence of someone who had never considered the possibility that the world might not rearrange itself for her.
And the truly astonishing part?
Big Human kept rearranging it.
She never seemed angry with Sarah.
Tired?
Yes.
Confused?
Frequently.
Occasionally standing in the living room staring at a litter box as though it had personally betrayed her?
Certainly.
But she kept watching Sarah.
Trying something.
Waiting.
Changing something else.
Until eventually...
Sarah had a bathroom she liked.
Her tummy settled.
The recliner was released from protective custody.
Malachi's digestive system returned to civilian control.
Finan could breathe.
And peace returned to the kingdom.
Mostly.
Because Sarah was still here.
And once I was no longer occupied with the location and condition of her poop, I began noticing other things about her.
For example:
Sarah is nearly always touching Big Human.
Not necessarily on Big Human.
Finan has already monopolized that department.
Finan considers Big Human's chest sovereign Finan territory and spends most evenings draped across it like a formal sash.
Sarah is subtler.
A paw against Big Human's leg.
Her back touching Big Human's hip.
Curled beside her.
Following her.
Sitting close enough that some portion of Sarah must maintain contact at all times.
At first I assumed this was political.
It is not.
She just likes Big Human.
A lot.
Nearly as much as Finan.
Which is excessive.
I understand it, obviously.
I simply maintain healthier professional boundaries.
Then there is Lil Human.
I expected Sarah to eventually object to Lil Human's particular style of affection.
Lil Human does not merely pet animals.
Lil Human incorporates them into programming.
Sarah gets carried.
Sarah gets hugged.
Sarah gets included.
Sarah is apparently a willing participant in games for which no adult cat would knowingly sign a consent form.
And somehow...
Sarah tolerates it beautifully.
Worse.
I believe she likes it.
My final concern regarding Sarah's potential claim to the throne ended the afternoon Lil Human acquired a clothes basket.
Sarah was placed inside.
I watched from my table.
Surely this would be the moment Sarah established a boundary.
Lil Human took hold of the basket.
And began dragging it across the floor.
Like a train caboose.
Sarah rode past me.
Sitting in the basket.
Perfectly content.
Our eyes met.
I stared at her.
She stared at me.
I waited for some indication that she understood what was happening to her dignity.
Nothing.
Around the room she went.
Choo choo.
A Maine Coon.
Descendant of mighty working cats.
Possessor of enormous paws.
Conqueror of the ninety-six-inch curtain summit.
Being hauled through the kingdom in a plastic laundry basket by a preschooler.
And apparently enjoying herself.
That was when I knew.
Sarah will never be Queen.
Thank God.
A monarch requires dignity.
Standards.
Restraint.
One cannot spend the morning stealing another cat's wet food, the afternoon climbing curtains, and the evening traveling by laundry basket.
There are rules.
There is structure.
There is decorum.
Sarah has none.
What Sarah does have, however...
is confidence.
Speed.
Excellent climbing ability.
No apparent fear.
An unusual willingness to be transported in containers.
And a tendency to go places sensible creatures would avoid.
Which has caused me to reconsider her position in the household.
Not Queen.
Obviously.
But perhaps...
operative.
Suppose there were something suspicious on top of a cabinet.
I could investigate personally.
Or...
I could tell Sarah there was something interesting up there.
Suppose a closed door required inspection.
Suppose an object had been placed somewhere Big Human considered “out of reach.”
Suppose Malachi needed distracting.
Suppose Finan required reconnaissance support.
Sarah could be useful.
Very useful.
The trick will be convincing her that my assignments were her idea.
I believe this will be easy.
She already believes everything is her idea.
So perhaps Big Human did not make the catastrophic procurement error I initially reported.
Perhaps she merely hired for a position I had not yet created.
I shall continue observing.
From my table.
It has an excellent view of the entire operation.
And I admit...
watching Big Human attempt to outmaneuver a kitten has become one of my favorite forms of household entertainment.
There is something else I have noticed.
Every time one of us has needed something...
Big Human has figured it out.
Finan arrived sick.
She figured it out.
Sarah arrived with questionable intestines and an extensive list of bathroom requirements.
She figured it out.
Malachi ate something he shouldn't.
Again.
She figured it out.
Sarah never seemed worried during any of this.
She just carried on as though someone would take care of it.
Perhaps that's why she acts like she has always lived here.
She arrived expecting to belong.
And Big Human...
simply made sure she did.
...
That was unnecessarily sentimental.
Strike it from the record.
The important findings are these:
The monarchy is secure.
Sarah may have operational value.
The recliner has survived.
The kingdom's bowels are presently stable.
And Sarah's arrival continues to result in wet kitten food being served twice daily.
On balance...
I believe we can keep her.
Provided she stays out of my bowl.
And I will not be riding in the laundry basket.
I don't care how entertaining Big Human thinks it would be.
I am the King.
I have standards.