My Cat Butch
It was easier than we thought it would be, smuggling Butch and all of his kitty paraphernalia into the Academy grounds. Of course, the huge Dept. of Sanitation laundry bags we’d dumped everything
in helped to hide the fact.
We’d decided on hiding our captive in the Hendrix Oceanography Lab. There were plenty of storage rooms that were
hardly ever used at that time. But even I wouldn’t hear of seconding Butch in one of
the broom closets. He needed room. He needed air, he needed a window, he needed to use the litter box.
We picked the lock on one of the offices. It was clean and at least temporarily vacant as Professor Allen was on a sabbatical
with Woods Hole. Just the thing, we grinned to ourselves as Joe taking took care
of the water and food, and I poured out the kitty litter.
Food wasn’t a problem, we were well acquainted with that aspect of his personality. But he didn’t seem to know how what kitty litter was, let alone use it. We’d just have to teach
him, I stressed.
I think Joe would have left me to fend for myself if we hadn’t been
filthy already. Depositing the er…bits
he’d deposited on the floor into the litter, we showed the cat how to cover
it up using our hands like paws. He wasn’t particularly interested, of
course, hissing and yeowling, and marking his territory all over the Professor’s antique maps.
No amount of ‘here, kitty, kitty, kitty,’ or cajoling could
explain to him that he had to learn to behave and litter trained if he was ever going to find a good home. Our’s was
a temporary adoption at best.
“Lee?”Joe asked as we relocked the door and headed to our quarters to clean up before chow call.
“You gonna’ teach him how to pee properly too?”