Kickstand was born on or around the day that Hurricane Katrina made landfall in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi in 2005. When I met her, she was a scrappy, starved young feline mother. A few days after I met her, she was walking through security in the airport in New Orleans, on her way to a new home and a cushy life in Washington State. Now, like the rest of our animals, she makes the 3000+ mile trip from Whidbey Island in Washington and Clearwater, Florida and back, twice a year... and adventure that everyone has adapted to surprisingly well.
Most cat owners can identify at least one quirk for each cat in the household. Such a quirk causes the frequent shaking of heads among human residents. Kickstand's quirk is the rush to the toilet anytime she hears anyone in the shower. There she perches, posing on her throne like one of true royalty:
When the shower is complete, whomever slides open the shower curtain will come face to face with Kickstand's precious little Tabby face. At the point of eye contact, she will start making short, staccato meows that meander in rhythm up and down, to and fro. We are clear that she urgently needs to tell us something, but lack the insight to know exactly what.
Perhaps she is just demanding that her Tiara be retrieved and placed on her furry little head immediately.
Perhaps she senses that the plumbing is about to collapse and is shouting the plumber's phone number in Kitty Morse Code.
Perhaps, she is writing a book about her adventurous life and is demanding a stenographer.
Perhaps, she is just being totally random.
Whatever she is trying to say, we clearly don't get it, because she keeps saying it over and over, talking rapidly and incessantly, shower after shower, seemingly frustrated that our little pea brains can't understand what she is so clearly trying to say.
Perhaps, I also need to get a life and stop pondering what my cats are trying to say.
But, then again, perhaps not!
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