First of all, I’ve had some coffee… so put a check in that box.  I’m not saying anyone is safe, because my second cup is still mostly full, but at least the light isn’t blinking red with the sirens blaring like they would if I wasn’t this far.

Second, I’m an idiot.  Understanding I’ve had coffee, the statement should be taken with a degree of seriousness, because obviously a staggering, drooling, half-conscious person with no coffee is an idiot solely because they are attempting to engage in discussion without any caffeine-driven support in the first place.  No, that’s not this situation, so sit down, get your own preferred beverage… even if that’s tea, which is stupid of you… listen to this nonsense, and you’ll quickly understand why I’ve said it.

I have two cats.  That is understood. They are passive aggressive morons.  This is also established through my previous recollections of their assault on the Christmas tree and fireplace in my last place of residence.  The behavioral pattern being documented, we’d like to think that, as a fairly “evolved” species and a reasonably intelligent guy, there’s a decent probability that I’d learn how to cope with these furry imbeciles in residence in a more effective way over time.  You’d think that, right?  Right?  Yeah, that’s what I thought.  Go back to your coffee/tea and relax.  This isn’t that story.

So, since we’ve moved into the new place, life has been fairly under control and without “incident”, which is amazing given the amount of time I’ve spent in Georgia and the access they’ve now had to my drums and recording equipment.  That isn’t to say that Lucky hasn’t marched across the mixing board and muted certain channels and messed things up or knocked over the table that had my laptop on it, sending that to the floor so I could find it all in a big pile once or twice… of COURSE he’s done that.  Doing harm while no one is in sight of him is Lucky’s specialty.  He’s like the master ninja of stupid shit to do when no one is around to catch him.  That all being said, we’ve had a relatively peaceful, non-confrontational experience over the last 10 months here, and I guess we were just due for some level of stupid to work its way into the light.

So, in moving to the new place, I had to figure out a place to keep all the cat toys.  Seems like a simple enough task, but in this place (unlike my last one), keeping them in a closed off bedroom is much more inconvenient because you’d have to go upstairs to get things and it just doesn’t seem worth the hassle.  As a result, I made the “brilliant” and “efficient” decision during the move in process to put the toys in a cabinet that is near where the cats have their bowls.  Now, before you start nodding and thinking you know the outcome, just take a pause and wait bro… this isn’t your story, so take two steps back and wait for your turn.  We’re not there yet.

Considering myself reasonably educated in pea-sized cat brain behavior, since moving in, I have always been very careful not to let them see the toys come out or go back into the cabinet.  That takes some effort at times, given they never seem as interested in a toy as the minute you stop playing with them with it, but I’ve generally been very careful to distract them just long enough that the toy can be put away without them seeing where it’s going.  That is specifically based in the fear that their diabolical little minds will realize they can pull that cabinet open on their own and then the rules of organized society will come crashing down like a house of cards in a hurricane.

That was my process and discipline.  Be careful, be deliberate, maintain secrecy, and no one gets hurt… until about two days ago.  For some reason that we can probably only refer to as a TOTAL MENTAL LAPSE, I put a toy back in the cabinet right in front of Stormy… as in, he was about two feet away and witnessed the entire thing.  Now, I’m sure I must have been thinking… “what possible harm can come from just one lapse in the (otherwise) deliberate and thoughtful approach we’ve been taking to this situation?”  Yeah, that must be it, because “how can I possibly screw up a good thing” likely wasn’t the idea going through my head at that moment in time… at least, I’d like to think it wasn’t.   Realizing that I’d just taken a slight risk, I pushed their cat bed next to the door so that all of its four ounces of total weight could provide an impregnable barrier to any attempt they may make to get in there… just in case.  Yeah, I know… a daunting obstacle.

Anyway, from about an hour later, and through most of yesterday, I’d occasionally hear a quick little ‘bump bump’… coming from the kitchen.  It’s a sound I haven’t heard before and is clearly the audible result in cats trying (and failing) to get a cabinet open.  So, in this situation, you’d think that my somewhat evolved and developed brain would think “hmm, maybe I need to do something to make sure they don’t get in there”… You’d think that, and I wouldn’t like you, and I’d probably say “mind your own damn business… I’m ok with being accountable for my stupid choices”, but that’s not really the point.  The point is that, despite every warning that a problem was coming, I didn’t do anything other than leave a fairly harmless cat bed in the way of two motivated, devious little fur demons from hell with something they clearly wanted on the other side of that door.

So, sleeping with the peace of mind that only comes from being utterly oblivious, I woke this morning thinking today would just be another day of making coffee, feeding the morons, and rolling into the day… that’s not what happened…

I came downstairs to find cat toys strewn across the entire floor, both in the kitchen and living room.  It’s like the cats made multiple trips to the cabinet, brought stuff out, took it into the living room, played for a while, got tired of it and thought… “maybe I ought to try something else and play with it in a different spot, this one is kinda played out”.  More like that.  Not surprisingly, when I appeared on the stairs, both cats made a dash for the basement like they knew it was about to get real the minute I saw the mess.  How this is possible with pea-sized cat brains that seem incapable of about any level of intelligent thought…?  I have no idea, but I guess survival instinct is a real thing, even when you theoretically have nine lives to expend in the first place.

Anyway, the good news about their prompt exit was that it afforded me the opportunity to pick everything up and return it to the cabinet without them observing, but it seems like a pyrrhic victory at best when they obviously know where the goodies are at this point.

So, here we stand.  Clearly a new level of security was needed if the toys are to remain safe and secure in their present location, so I used the trusty and reliable “rubber band strategy” to attach the two adjacent cabinet door handles, hoping that will make it almost impossible for the two thieves to either open the cabinet doors or to keep them open for more than a second even if they do.

The question is what will happen next.  Will this measure of added safety prove out, or is this yet another hopeless endeavor into being outsmarted by the two smallest, non-Sicilian creatures in residence…?  It’s a battle of wills and time will tell.

In the meantime, I’ll open as I began… I’m an idiot.  I had this situation under control, or so I thought, until one temporary lapse in focus was enough to remind me that there are criminals under my roof, and you can’t show them an open safe without expecting them to steal the contents the minute you look away.

This war isn’t over, but for today we remain vigilant… and committed to the cause.

-CJG 06/27/2018