Smokey and the Holidays, part one

You already know about our white, black and gray cat from his escapades with our Pekingese, Flair, a few post ago.  He was much more of a comedian than that, which I'll tell you about now.

Smokey came into our lives the Friday before Thanksgiving when we still lived in our first house in Glen Rock, NJ.  If my wife hadn't had a soft spot, and not brought him home that weekend, I  don't think he would have survived it.  He spent the weekend in the Egyptian vet's hospital to get his body fluids back to normal.  I guess he used one of his nine lives that weekend, but by Monday, he was as good as new, and checking out our house, and evading Flair by hopping atop this or that chair or piece of furniture.

The following Thursday, Thanksgiving, we were spending it quietly; just Genna, my wife, her grandmother, the dog, Flair, and the new cat, Smokey.  We made a full course dinner anyway, despite the short guest list.  After thew main course, we retired to the living room.  Grandma took a nap.  I was in a chair in the corner, without a view of the dining room table.  Genna went into the kitchen, I presumed to start washing a few things, to which I said:

"Gen, relax.  I'll start the cleanup in a little while."
"That's OK.  I'll just rinse a few plates," she replied.

Unbeknownst to me, Genna went out to the garbage outside, and I heard to rustle of silverware on the dining room table.

I said again,

"Gen, I'll take care of it, relax."

I kept hearing the silverware moving, and I decided to investigate.

As I walked into the dining room, I saw Smokey dragging a drumstick over the silverware, and onto the floor.  I was able to grab the drumstick before Smokey could run off with into a quiet corner to feast.  He ran away from me, and turned around with a look that said 'ahh shucks'.

Not having a cat for a while made me forget their unlimited mobility inside the house.

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