Keeping an Eye on Gracie

Whenever I’m home, my cat Gracie, usually behaves so perfectly, it’s like living with Margaret Thatcher. OK, sometimes she grabs a piece of sheet music in her mouth and hang -glides off the piano. But mostly, she’s saintly.
So, I’ve wondered for a while what she does when I’m not at home. I know she doesn’t have parties, because she has no idea where I hide the chips and dip. But she must get down – somehow. So recently, I borrowed a Pet Cam and put it in the playroom – which is, like, Gracie’s clubhouse. I then went to a friend’s house and watched from her PC. Oh, Gracie. Still cats run deep!  Anyway, here’s one cat’s day, as interpreted by her owner.

• 10:02 a.m. - 11:02 a.m.
  No wonder Gracie always looks so perfect. She primps more than one of the Gabor sisters. She licks every part of her body I can mention. And several that I can’t. Without doing some pretty fancy explaining to the authorities. Note to self: If I can get the cat to clean a house like this and then train others, we can start a maid service. The novelty of it alone could make me rich.
  
• Noon - 12:45 p.m.
  The first of Gracie’s 11 naps. She lies perfectly still, but once she throws her front paws straight up. It may be a bad dream. Then again, she could be practicing her hang-gliding moves. That’s dedication.
  
• 1- 1:30 p.m.
  Gracie hides under the couch. I think she’d be under there forever, but she realizes (relatively) quickly that it’s no fun hiding if there’s no one to look for you. When she comes out, she seems to have a sheepish look on her face. Or is it cat-ish? Another note to self: See if that word has been copyrighted. 
  
• 1:30 p.m - 1:40 p.m.
  A very short nap. But really a prelude to:
  
• 1:41 p.m. - 2:25 p.m.
  A considerably longer nap.
  
• 2:30 p.m - 3 p.m.
  Gracie tries playing with her toy mouse, Rasputin. He is named Rasputin, because every time Gracie “kills” him, he pops up again, squeaking, ready to be killed again. Watching this time, I see that the squeak freaks the cat out terribly and makes her jump. Third note to self: Surgery tomorrow on Rasputin. Remove his squeak.
  
• 3 - 3:12 p.m.
  The cat is out of sight. And I don’t mean that the way hipsters say it. She must be upstairs eating. OK, here she is. Gracie has something sticking out of her mouth. It looks like the leg of a toy doll. But I didn’t leave any toy dolls around. Well, if there’s a real mouse upstairs, I think he must be limping off to his mouse hole. Gracie is tough! Remind me never to mess with her.
  
• 4 p.m.
  I return home. Gracie is napping. She awakes and sleepily acknowledges my presence. I say, “Hi, girl. What did you do all day?” She shrugs, like, “Nothing special.” “Sure, kid,” I tell her. “Anything you say.”

Back to The Cool Cat by CatChanel humor columnist Peter Gerstenzang.