Moxy's Busy Weekend

Moxy was in prime blog-subject form this weekend.

It started Saturday, when I was relaxing in the sitting room with a cup of tea. I was seated on the couch, with my tea on the table behind me. I observed through the front window one of my new neighbours approaching the door. This was fine, but it meant that someone would be knocking on the door presently, sending the cats racing in all directions - except for Neville, who removes himself from his cat-bed for no one.

I knew Moxy would take a short-cut across the top of the writing table; even if he didn’t strike my cup, the violent disturbance of his bulk pounding across the surface would spill its contents. I stood, picked up my cup and held it, safe from escaping felines. The rap on the door produced the expected scurry. Moxy jumped up onto the table, ran across it, jumped to the floor - hitting my cup-holding hand directly on the knuckles and sending the tea flying.

Saturday night, I was typing at my computer in the bedroom. I heard the telltale bump-bump-bump of a cat trying to open a kitchen cupboard’s door. I shouted for whomever it was to stop it. Bump-bump-bump. I walked to the kitchen, giving voice to my annoyance on the way. There was no one present. I returned to the bedroom only to hear the insistent banging again. I came out to the kitchen, to see it empty once more. I returned to the bedroom. Bump-bump-bump. Out I hurried for the third time. Once again, the room was felinistically empty. Bump-bump-bump. I walked to a closed cupboard door, opened it, and out shot the Mixer, free at last.

Last evening, Moxy involved Valkyrie in his shenanigans. They were chasing each other about the house, which I enjoy seeing and hearing. But then the chase became confused, and they, perhaps unbeknownst to each other, headed toward one another at full speed, a collision imminent. At the last moment, both cats stopped, leaped into the air straight up from their sudden halt and, when they landed again, gently pushed at each other with their heads and sauntered away.

And finally, when I was pulling down the bedclothes preparatory to sleeping, in barrels Moxy, as he does every night, and leaps up onto the bed, from which he must be removed in order for me to continue to ready the bed. Every night.

And the Mixer isn’t even the mischievous one.