And You Will Know Her By the Trail of the Bag

We have three cats. Brooks, whom you have all been hearing about recently because she is so crazy and new and has a bi-color face. Osiris you have heard about because he has a terrible diet and an even worse digestive and urinary system.

And then there is my little Isis. She is the quietest of the three, the most unassuming, the most loving in a quiet, unassuming way. It is with some surprise that I learn that she has a seedy and curious night life.

I imagine it was around two in the morning. I didn't look at the clock either upon being wakened, or upon returning to bed in a stupor.

You see, we were sleeping soundly, tired after two Kung Fu formats, SPF's soccer game, and a day of shopping for school. We were out. And I mean out. This is a rare pleasure for both of us seeing as how SPF snores and I kick his shins when he does. So rare a pleasure, apparently, that Isis decided to go snooping in the newly purchased section of the house. One of her favorite games is "Kitty in a Bag." Well, sometimes the cat gets the bag, and sometimes the bag gets the cat.

The noise was for some reason deafening. Definitely loud enough to wake us both into instant "I know Kung Fu and I can kick your ass!" mode. I believe now that the sound was Isis falling off of the desk inside the paper bag that housed my birthday present. What happened next will go down in my memory as one of the most hysterical moments in history.

The sound of the falling, crinkling paper bag was only the beginning. The bag then decided to run up the stairs, and I mean tear up the stairs with all of the terror undoubtedly settled in the mind of the cat whose toy was relentlessly chasing her. From our position in the bedroom we could hear the bag make it around the kitchen and the living room at break-neck speed twice. When that proved to no avail, she headed back down stairs to try and shake her pursuer, tore through both bedrooms before we could get our hands on her to help, flew back up the stairs and back down in a span of several seconds before SPF was able to slam his foot on top of the bag and tear it loose from the still running cat.

She continued to run for about two more minutes, just to be sure. I went to the restroom and had trouble peeing because I was laughing so hard. It was all I could do to collect myself and track her down to be sure that her heart had not exploded with the effort. Seeing as how she is also our lazy, fat, and unmotivated cat.

I honestly have no idea how she managed to get so thoroughly entrenched in the bag that it stayed with her for that long, but I have a feeling that she won't be playing "Kitty in a bag" anytime soon.

Perhaps this is funny only to those who witnessed it, but if you have a cat, just look at her and picture her running for her life from her favorite toy at some ungodly hour of the night. Hysterical.