From the moment I met Chloe, I knew she had impeccable taste. In her haste to win me over at the adoption center, she tried snuggling into my Coach purse, for gosh sake. She no longer recognizes potato chips as a main food group, proving she’s way out of my league. And, she hardly ever eats my tank top straps anymore. Cotton: the fabric of her first life.
Her palate has grown in leaps and bounds throughout the years, much like herself (hey, calories are calories), over time giving way to remarkable sophistication.
Originally a farm kitten growing up on mice, I’ve established she must have gotten a taste for finer living as my own life transitioned and bloomed from singleton with a starter career eating canned soup for lunch to Mrs. with a mortgage loan eating canned soup for lunch. Ok, bad example.
Although that taste still doesn’t fit into our monthly budget, Chloe musters brilliant resourcefulness to garner what she wants. I’d like to think she learned this from my former shopping abilities. I once rationalized buying a pair of $150 boots mere hours after quitting a job, with no future career in sight, out of sheer defiance and stubbornness. Take your best shot at me, world.
Suddenly, it’s much more apparent where Chloe gets her attitude from.
Since moving into our new house in October, we rearranged her dining situation to include both water and food bowls on a plastic mat with a hefty lip to prevent spillage. In the past, this never worked because she would inevitably knock over her water bowl, soaking the carpet repugnantly as if to say, “Away with this tepid concoction. Mere peons wouldn’t be forced to drink this! Hazzah!” After all, drinking water three seconds old from a bowl was unthinkable considering she could get it fresh from the faucet if she melted my face off with enough of her old timey charm.
Nowadays, she simply sits pitifully in front of the bowl, glaring at me in disdain with a look that says, “Get this joke out of my face.” But she’ll drink it when she gets desperate enough. My baby’s growing up!
So, the food bowl is on the right side, and water is on the left. One day, I saw Chloe sitting to the left of the water bowl, performing with her adorable left little paw what Clayton and I refer to as a “sky hook.”
My first reaction was standard amusement.
“How does it feel to know your cat is a leftie?” Clayton asked.
I stared at him, aghast.
“Look, she’s sky hooking!!!” he exclaimed.
Our necks snapped quickly back to the action at hand.
With paw dangling in midair at an angle and precision only Creighton University Forward Ethan Wragge making a perfect three could exhibit, she gracefully curved it down into her food bowl, deftly scooping up some niblets and flinging them into her water bowl. She then fished food particles out of the water and into her mouth. This process was repeated many times until she had her fill. At first, we just thought she had lost it. Then, one evening …
“Is she … making her own wet cat food?” Clayton inquired incredulously.
Guys, she was. She was making her OWN WET CAT FOOD. I assume her love of it began when I gave her canned food to mask antibiotics a few months ago. Who knew she clung to that memory until discovering her own way to make it a reality?
Even better, we got it on video.
Chloe has since standardized this process for each meal, and it never gets old to watch. Helloooo – smartest cat alive. And, that’s when I realized it. She is once again modeling our behaviors, this time, of which are economical (although, not by my preference). It’s like the time I really wanted a frozen, deep dish apple pie for $7 and Clayton gave his approval because the oven would serve the dual purpose of warming the house. Shrug. A win is a win.
Future possibilities regarding what Chloe is capable of are potentially limitless. Training her to use the toilet isn’t out of the question. Perhaps, in time, she will also become our poop prodigy. When that happens, and IT WILL, I won’t be putting free videos on WordPress anymore. If you want to see our circus freak, you can do it like everyone else: by getting in line at our front door and paying $5 upon entry.