by Rebecca McLeod

Rebecca shares with us another fun from the perspective of her cats.

Floppy the kitten was not a professionally trained chef, but he did enjoy watching Mom’s cooking shows on Netflix, especially ones with Gordon Ramsay. Chef Ramsay was yelly and exciting and he had Michelin stars (whatever those were). The only thing that Floppy didn’t understand about those shows was when Chef Ramsay said that someone’s food tasted like “cat food,” he said it like it was a bad thing! Cat food was delicious, in Floppy’s humble opinion – especially the turkey and giblets flavor.

One day when Mom had several projects due and was stressed out from buying a house with Dad, Floppy thought he’d cheer everyone up by whipping up a home-cooked meal from odds and ends he’d found in the pantry. He’d explored the pantry extensively, carefully chewing each box and bag for “mouthfeel” authenticity. Mom didn’t understand. She just yelled at him to quit “dicking around with the Demerara sugar.”

Boy, was she in for a surprise!

Floppy waited until Mom was busy on her laptop, editing a book about lacrosse. She was focusing soooo hard, that she didn’t even see him trot into the pantry and climb the tall shelves.

Floppy was pretty familiar with most of the things in the pantry, and he spotted a new bag almost immediately. It was sitting next to the Demerara sugar and some other baking odds and ends.

“Miss Babycat ma’am, what does this say?” he called to his older adoptive sister, who was sleeping on top of the cupboards. The black cat opened her amber eyes and leaned over the edge to read the bag.

“Thai Coconut Curry Sauce,” she informed him, yawning. She had a feeling that she knew where this was going, but as long as Floppy wasn’t interrupting her nap, she really didn’t mind.

“Oh God, that sounds delicious! I love Thai food! Thank you Babycat,” he replied. Babycat was already asleep.

Floppy tried to chew the bag of sauce open, but it was pretty tough. So, he slit it open with one claw. It was spicy and slippery and the spices made him sneeze. He accidentally knocked it off the shelf and into the laundry hamper, splattering yellow sauce everywhere.

“Oh dear,” he managed, before a second sneeze knocked him off the shelf. He grabbed the phone and the router on the way down. Also a box full of spice mixes and condiments that landed on top of him when he hit the hamper. Thankfully, he landed on the clothes and curry sauce.

Mom looked up from her computer. Floppy was struggling out of the hamper, covered in yellow curry sauce.
“—–!” she cussed, and Floppy squirmed. This wasn’t how he’d pictured things going.

Mom lunged up from the couch and walked over to survey the damage.

“Sweet —– —— ——! Floppy?” she demanded.

“I made dinner?” he managed.

Mom picked Floppy up and dumped him in the bathroom so that he wouldn’t track curry all over the rest of the condo. She rinsed all the clothes and ran them through the wash to try and save them. She threw out the ruined laundry hamper, wiped down the shelves and the phone and router. She called Dad and told him that in their new house, they were going to have a pantry with cat proof locks. She also told him that working from home was for the birds.

When Mom got to the bathroom, Floppy was very embarrassed and still covered in yellow sauce.

“I was only trying to help!” he protested as she began to fill the bathtub with warm water. He wasn’t sure whether she was going to drown him or bathe him.

“I know, Floppy. Maybe next time you can help with something else – like napping. If you would nap in the afternoons, it would be a big help. And the mornings. Lots of naps.”

“I think I could do that. I don’t really want a bath,” he protested as she picked him up.

“You should have thought of that before. I’m not having you lick all of this off and get sick. See? There’s only three inches of water in the tub and it’s warm. I’m even going to dry you off.”

Miserably, Floppy let her bath him. He had curry everywhere – between his toes, on his head, and all over his back. Because he was an obedient kitty, he didn’t claw or bite, but he sniveled a little.

When Floppy got out of the tub, he trotted into the living room. Tikky and Babycat were sleeping in a sunbeam. Babycat sniffed the air and looked up.

“Something smells like takeout,” she said, getting up and walking over to Floppy. He had large patches of yellow all over him still (the curry wouldn’t wash out), and she licked one experimentally. Then she licked it again.
“That’s delicious!” she exclaimed, knocking Floppy down and beginning to forcefully bath him.

“Hmmm? Food?” asked Tikky, sauntering over to Floppy. He licked the yellow spot between Floppy’s ears. “OMG, ethnic food! I love it!” he agreed.

“Guys, don’t eat me!” protested Floppy, trying to get away. Babycat sat on him firmly.

“No no no, this is awesome.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever liked you better!” beamed Tikky.

Check out some of Rebecca’s rat stories in KRL’s rodent ramblings section, and more of her cat stories in our pet section.

Rebecca McLeod, enslaved by the whimsical charms of pet rats in her early twenties, continues her love of rats even though she currently doesn’t own any. She & her husband Matthew recently moved to Florida from Canada. Rebecca holds a B.A. Hons. in English from the University of Saskatchewan and is a freelance writer.