Michael Forgives His Tuxedo

Michael Forgives His Tuxedo

  Book Three: Humor In Youth Series

  By C. P. Lowe

  Copyright © 2014

  All rights reserved. The reproduction of this work is forbidden.

  This book is dedicated to

  Michael Webb

  from Iowa City, Iowa.

  The clinking and clanking of dishes wakes me. Why can’t my little human, Michael, be more quiet? After all, I’m only on my third nap of the day. A cat needs their rest — well at least I need my rest.

  Of course, Michael likes to annoy me. He has never totally forgiven me for some of my kitty capers. The first one happened a couple of days after I came here. I was performing one of my romps, running into randomly selected rooms at awkward angles in order to keep my flexible, super-kitty senses alert. I accidentally leapt onto his chest. It scared the daylights out of him. He howled in shock then threw me hard on to the floor. He was so forceful it stunned me. As I raced for protection under the nearest bed he bellowed at his mom, “Tuxedo attacked me!”

  Tuxedo. What a silly name. Just because I look like I’m wearing a suit is no reason to stick me with such a name. After all, parents never name their babies Wiggly Arms or Drooler. So it has always annoyed me that Michael named me after my looks.

  But there are other things that bother me more about Michael, like his constant clinking and clanking around the house. Take for example our fourth day of clashes. Michael was banging the milk jug down on the kitchen table. As we stared at each other he angrily said, “I know it was you, Tuxedo. You pooped in my shoe.”

  I ignored him. Of course it was me. Who else would have done it, his mom?

  “I’ll get you for that! You’ll be sorry I ever brought you home.” He plopped down in his chair.

  The clink, clink, clink of the spoon against the bowl irritated my ears, so I got up to stretch and take my second morning bath.

  “Good morning, sweetheart.”

  “Mom, that cat pooped in my shoe. He needs to go. I don’t want him anymore.”

  “Michael, you’re the one who picked him out. Remember how you pouted at your last birthday party when you only got a stuffed kitty?”

  “Well, I wish we’d stuff Tuxedo.”

  “Michael, you don’t mean that.”

  Actually that is exactly what he wanted to do to me. I wished I could have explained to him that I only pooped in his shoe because the door to my litter box was closed.

  His mom glanced down with a worried look at my almost empty food bowl. She had reason to be nervous. I’m cranky when I get hungry. “You know Michael you promised to feed him, remember?”

  “He’s gross! He licks himself in places that should make him barf!”

  I stopped my grooming, glared at him, and then thought, “You could learn a few things about hygiene from me Michael.”

  As he finished his breakfast I nibbled on the crunchies his mother had put out for me. After eating, I decided to stare at Michael. I like to watch him. Mostly because he hates it.

  “Mom! Tuxedo is looking at me again.” I looked down at my food bowl, turned a few circles in front of it, and then jumped up onto the table. I landed less than an inch from his cereal bowl.

  Michael bolted from his chair which caused the remainder of his milk to spill. The bowl rolled off the table and shot across the floor. “I’ve had it with this cat! Either he goes, or I do!”

  “He’s young, Michael, kind of like someone else I know,” his mom said, winking at him. “We just have to teach him not to jump on the table.” Then she added, “He probably just wants some attention. Why don’t you go play with him?”

  I meowed in agreement with her. At least one human understood me.

  “No way, I’m never going to play with that cat again. In fact, if I have to put up with Tuxedo another day, I’m leaving forever.”

  His mother shook her head. “Michael, you know you are not even allowed to cross the street by yourself. So taking off is definitely not going to be in your game plan.”

  “I won’t move out if Tuxedo leaves.”

  “Tuxedo is a part of the family. And we don’t get rid of family. Isn’t that right, boy?” she said, leaning over to scratch behind my ear. I love when she does that. It makes my purr machine go into overdrive.

  Michael huffed and puffed and stomped off to his room. She sighed and looked down at me. I purred even louder.

  “Tuxedo, why do you upset him so much? You really are a very sweet kit... OUCH! Darn, you bit me!”

  I flipped my tail at her to let her know it was just one of my love bites. Even so, it was time to skedaddle. I bolted down the hallway toward my favorite hiding place under any convenient bed. I stopped short when I noticed Michael shoving clothes into a small bag.

  “I’m over this place,” he grumbled. “That stupid cat gets away with everything. And if she won’t get rid of him I’m going to leave!” He turned around and stopped.

  “Tuxedo, this is all your fault!” Michael said as tears flowed down his cheeks. He grabbed the bag, stormed past me, and walked out the back door.

  I ran into the kitchen. It appeared his mother had no idea that he had just left. I rubbed up against her leg in an effort to tell her, but she thought I was making up to her for having bitten her. She just leaned over and cautiously petted me. I ran through my cat door to follow Michael. He stood at the end of the driveway, looked right and then left.

  I watched as Michael stood there trying to decide which direction to walk. I knew he was not allowed outside without first telling his mom. The idea of going on an adventure without her consent had probably never crossed his mind before. Yet here he was beginning an unknown journey.

  I feared he was about to do other things he should not. I knew his rash decision was kind of my fault, so I decided it was up to me to keep him safe. I moved quietly down the driveway just out of his sight.

  After a long pause at the end of the walkway, Michael suddenly turned right. With a new found determination he began to march in high step toward the crosswalk. At the corner a man passed Michael. After that a few cars crossed the intersection, then a woman pushing a baby carriage, still more cars, and several other travelers moved through the streets. To me it appeared to be a game of Catch Me If You Can. I didn’t understand it. But I did know Michael seemed confused. He just stood there, motionless.

  I sensed he was in danger. So before I could decide if it was a good idea, I jumped into the air and landed on his shoulders. The force of my bounce pushed him down. As he rolled on the ground his arm slammed into my side. It hurt, a lot, but I wasn’t going to let Michael know that. He stared at me wide-eyed as his face turned red with anger.

  “STUPID CAT!” he screamed swinging his bag at me. I dodged the sack of clothes just in time. He got up and started to chase me. However he was no match for my speed. I ran for the house in hopes I could lead him home. Leaping through my cat door, I waited for him to follow.

  Nope, not this time. Michael was on a mission. As I peeked out the door I watched him stomp off toward the crossing. Taking a shortcut through the neighbor’s yard I beat him to the crosswalk. I sat down and waited for him. As Michael turned toward the corner he stopped short when he noticed me watching him.

  He knew I was guarding the entrance to the crosswalk because he demanded, “Tuxedo, let me cross!”

  I had no intention of allowing that. Instead I flicked my tail with a determination I hoped would equal his. Michael moved forward. I could see in his eyes that he was fixed on the idea of crossing the street. His desire to have a better life without me brought him to within a few feet of my whiskers.

  I planted my back legs into the ground and sat as
still as possible. Just as he got to the edge of the sidewalk, I again pounced on him. The first time I jumped on him I didn't want him to fall. But this time, I wanted him to hit the dirt.

  For both of our sakes he needed to realize that I wasn’t going to let him cross the street. As he fell backwards I landed on my feet. Quickly I moved back to my guard position. For a long time, we just glared at each other. Finally he stood up.

  "Tuxedo, that hurt," he said. Suddenly, he took off and almost made it past me, but I was too fast for him. I jumped sideways and tripped him. Again he fell hard. This time there was a bit of blood on his scraped hand. He began to cry, and I felt sorry for him. I rubbed up against his side in an effort to calm him. Bad move on my part, for he hit me as hard as a bat hits a baseball. It hurt, like fire it hurt, but I still continued to rub up against him.

  The next moment as I lay near him, three huge boxes went flying above our heads. We were both shocked by this mass of cardboard rolling around us. Finally the boxes came to a stop. The truck didn’t even realize it had dropped the boxes. It just kept on going.

  Michael looked at the boxes. Then he said, “Those could have knocked me out. Your meanness saved me, Tuxedo.”

  I ignored this dreadful comment about my bad temper. Instead I prepared for another battle with him at the crosswalk. Michael was clearly hard-headed enough to keep trying to cross the street. But he just whispered, “Maybe you are not as bad as I thought.”

  I took that as a signal to move next to him. We lay there together. Slowly, he began to scratch me in my favorite spot behind my ear. I purred so loud I almost drowned out traffic. Together, we walked home where his mom scolded him for having left without permission. He didn’t mention the near miss at the crosswalk, so it remained our little secret.

  From that day on, Michael played with me, fed me, and today he even kisses me once in awhile. For my part, I never again pooped in any of his shoes, but throwing up, well that’s another story.

  The End