Tiggywinkles, Voyeur Squirrels, and the Things the Cat Drags In

A few weeks ago I was awakened by some fairly loud thumping and bumping in the living room and I got up to investigate. Luckily my wife remained asleep and missed the ensuing festivities.

Those of us who have cats know about those little cat secrets that are rarely talked about. Non-cat owners see the cat food commercials with the beautifully groomed cat all lovey-dovey with the supermodel who gives them pate or tuna filet on a crystal saucer and everything looks grand. What non-cat owners may not know, and even many cat owners with an absence of wildlife around their houses may not know either, is that cats are bona fide enthusiastic sadists and, like children, they like to bring their toys inside to play with. With a cat door downstairs our cats are free to bring most anything they want into the house, and they frequently do.

When I ventured into the living room I found both of our cats excitedly huddled around the piano engrossed in a game of "Run for Your Life!" A noble and dynamic mouse periodically bolted over to the wall and under the curtains, or made a mad dash under the coffee table. Eventually he made an ill timed jump or dash and was caught and, with the utmost gentleness, was trotted back to the center of the room and put down to endure another session of torment. As the mouse tired the cats would feign boredom or disinterest and lie down and look in the other direction as if to say, "I'm not watching now so try and run away!" They even let him get some distance away just to make things more exciting, although this sometimes backfires. Now and then the mouse gets away or hides so successfully that the cats lose interest and we end up with a mouse living in the house for a few days until the cats track him down again.

As the mouse contestant becomes fatigued he finally stops running away due to exhaustion and probably hopelessness. At this point the cat will lean down and deliver a tender and loving bite just hard enough to elicit some squeaks, a burst of adrenaline, and the mouse will make another doomed run for it. Of course, as the mouse becomes more and more exhausted the tender love bites become a little more forceful  to elicit the happy response the cat is looking for and... well... you can figure out where that story line ultimately ends. When you find little, dead, wet looking mice lying in the corner or under a coffee table with no apparent injuries you can pretty much deduce what happened to them.

Most of the time I am able to get in on the fun with the cats and with a box or bag I scoop up the mouse and then deposit it down the road two or three houses away. The cats are always let down by this but they don't seem to hold it against me - they usually can't figure out what the heck happened to that mouse.

What is surprising is to find out that squirrels are very cat-like. The magnificent red and black squirrels that live in our yard run madly back and forth through the trees and hedges while our dogs run along the ground below them staring up with wild excitement like the beginning of the Superman show. "It's a Bird! No it's a Something! No it's a Squirrel!" The dogs cannot contain their enthusiasm and the squirrels willingly run them back and forth across the yard until the dogs finally lose interest or give up in frustration. Then, in the same way the cats like to extend the torment, the squirrels come down the tree onto the grass and chatter little arrogant taunts at the dogs who race mightily over to the tree to catch the squirrel. Heh, heh. To no avail of course. Cats like to torment mice, squirrels like to torment dogs. I still haven't seen the squirrels and the cats interact. I suspect the cats know they are outclassed and have no intention of being made to look foolish.

It turns out, interestingly, that my wife has a fox-red squirrel who is quite enamored of her. As she was doing her hair and make up the other day he spied her from the tree which is only a few feet from the bathroom window and sat fixated and staring at her for a few minutes. She made eye contact with him and he was very interested indeed. She complimented him on his very owl like large pointed ears and that seemed to please him too. He then disappeared down the tree only to reappear a minute later with some kind of nut or acorn and proceeded to gnaw on it as he watched her get ready for work, much as one might munch popcorn while engrossed in an entertaining show. We hope we see more of him as the summer progresses.

Perhaps the most charming of visitors has been the local hedgehogs - Tiggywinkles to fans of Beatrix Potter - who seem to wander into our yard during the night every week or so. Our dogs bark at them and scare them into little pincushion balls and then try to pick them up and shake them senseless. When that fails they lie near them and bark manically when they try to move or start to unroll. If the squirrels are going to torment the dogs then the dogs must figure they had better torment the hedgehogs. I bring the dogs in after a bit of this and let the hedgehogs go about their business. The cats have come out and investigated but the hedgehogs are too slow moving to interest them for more than a few minutes. They are gentle easygoing creatures who unroll themselves and then meander about the yard and burrow in the grasses and ferns eating worms, snails and slugs and who knows what else. Then they wander off through our fence into another yard and disappear into the hedges and woods.

Monsieur!

Early March, 2010

I had to buy an  uber vacuum last week. With two huskies and two cats and a wild and semi -jungle yard that sends debris in through the doors and the windows I needed something that could handle the unrelenting stream of hair, leaves, feathers and general dirt pouring into the house.

I went to Manor (think Sears from 40 years ago) and headed to the vacuum section in the House and Home department. There, not far from the vacuums was a man who was idly chatting with a elderly blond lady. As I walked up he turned the full attention of his intent dark eyes on me and raised his eyebrow hopefully.  His resemblance to Hercule Poirot was uncanny - he could have been his brother or cousin. His moustaches were less elaborate than Hercule's yet were similar in visual effect. He looked at me questioningly and had a name tag so I was sure he worked in the store, and I zoomed up to him full speed and asked, "which would be your most powerful vacuum?" He paused for a moment, drew himself up, sighted down his nose at me and reprimanded me, "Monsieur!!!!!"

Unsure of the issue at hand I looked at him apologetically and inquired, "Oui?"

He looked exasperated with me as though I were a slow witted child. Then he demonstrated: he assumed a pleasant expression, nodded to me agreeably and in a neutral tone announced, "Bonjour Monsieur!"

I looked at him numbly for a few seconds then made the connection. "Ah!" I said. I assumed an equally pleasant expression and said back to him, "Bonjour Monsieur!"

Over the following days I quickly learned that this form of greeting is never neglected, not even in case of fire or heart attack! One must always begin conversations this way. We are, after all, civilized human beings, non?

He gave me a tiny nod of approval at this display of proper etiquette and then asked me "How may I be of service?"

I explained I was looking for his most powerful vacuum -  one that could take care of dog and cat hair and dust and ... things. "Of course, Monsieur," he assured me with the absolute confidence of a trained professional. He walked over to the display of vacuums and gestured somewhat grandly to a purple and plastic space-aged looking affair and announced "Le Dyson!" The blond woman he had been talking to tagged along and looked with some surprise and admiration at the vacuum to which we now gave our attention.

I breathed a sigh of relief at the name as we have the same brand back in the states and it is truly an extraordinary machine. "Excellent!" I said. "I'll take it, please."

He asked "Does Monsieur know about the multi layered filtration system?"  (way too complicated in French) and I gently explained that that was not necessary as I knew it was excellent. "Would Monsieur like me to explain the various features of the vacuum?" he queried hopefully. The blond woman who had been listening had her eyebrows raised hopefully too as though she were looking forward to his explanation of the machine's capabilities.

"No", I said, "Thank You. I have this brand in my home in the U.S. and am informed of its capabilities. I know it is marvelous machine."
He was clearly deflated by my response, as was the blond woman who had been following along. What, after all, is the point of being a salesman if one does not have the opportunity to present, to explain, to sell?

He regrouped quickly from this small set back and as he drew a large carton off the shelf below inquired if I desired anything else.

"Do you have a special turbo head for carpet that goes with this machine?"

"Monsieur!" He beamed at me approvingly as if I were a star pupil, and led me to a nearby display that featured an amazing looking attachable vacuum head that resembled a tiny F-117.

He pointed out the items as he described them: high speed rubber bristles that would pick up hair and fibers, adjustable wheels for different height carpet, and a tiny important valve that varied the speed of the brush turbine.

"Very good!" I said. "I definitely need that."

"Alas," Hercule informed me, "This is a special order item, although the vendor is here in the Geneva area."

Hiding my impatience I inquired, "Could we not have the item delivered by tomorrow?"

This time he drew the word out in tiny, long syllables, with a sidelong smirking glance, and chided me, "Monsieur!" he said, either teasing me for my naiveté or admiring my droll sense of Gallic irony - I couldn't tell which.

I continued on. "Will it take two or three days? A week?"

He adopted a neutral expression and said matter-of-factly, "Let us find out."

He went to his station and after a minute of searching through numbers made a phone call. After hanging up he turned to inform me that the part would be delivered to the store the day after tomorrow. I was shocked that the transaction would occur so swiftly.

"Excellent!" I enthused. "That is great news."

I paid for my vacuum and special order part and, carton in hand, thanked him for his assistance.

He drew himself up to full height once again and gave me a tiny formal nod as I left, "At your service, Monsieur!"