Good kitties

My stepmother would shake her head when I would talk to my cats, saying, "You know that they can't understand you..." I told her that I have always been very intuitive with my pets, and that they seem to understand more than people give them credit for.

I used to have a cat named Mr. Penny, who was more like a friend to me than a pet. Sometimes I would be in my room with friends, and he would come to the door and glance at me. I would then say, "He needs more food" or "he wants to go outside." They would ask in amazement, "How do you know that?" and I would shrug and say, "Oh, I know my cat."

Once while we were living in the house in Citrus Heights, I gasped, thinking that I had seen a mouse. (I've had pet mice before, but am not thrilled by rodents who might have rabies). I realized that it was only Sabrina and Tabby's pet toy. They glanced at me (as if to ask if I was okay) and I laughed, saying, "Thank goodness it wasn't real."

Then I looked at them and said solemnly, "Okay you two... if a rat ever tries to get inside this house, I want you to stop him before he ever can." They seemed to be listening intently, but I laughed and shook my head, thinking, "As if they could understand me..."

I let them go outside into the backyard, and 20 minutes later, my mouth dropped open in surprise. There, on the threshold, was a dead rat.

I looked at my cats, who seemed to be proud of themselves, saying, "We did what you asked us to." I couldn't be sure that it had simply been a coincidence and so I patted them on the heads, saying, "Good kitties."

Then, unfortunately, it was my job to dispose of the rat. Ugh! At least he hadn't gotten inside the house...