los gatos wackos

I think my cats have spring fever. It is finally hitting the 60s and 70s regularly here, and sunlight is already pouring in when Patto and I get up at 6am. Because its finals season and because I turned my ankle last week, I declined to join him on our morning run and snuggled back under the covers. As soon as the front door shut behind him, the cats went loco. Caesar raced into the room and into the window sill of one of the bedroom windows. He stared out intently for about 8 seconds, and then raced across the bed and into the sill of the other window. After a few seconds, he raced out, and I could hear him tear down the hall and into the kitchen, where based on the mild scraping sound I could tell he had used a chair to launch himself into a kitchen window. After a few seconds, he tore back into the bedroom and into the original window... then the second window... then back down the hall to the kitchen. By this time I was curious. I got up and peeked out of the second bedroom window, expecting to see a bird, or a chipmunk, or Patto, stretching in the yard. There wasn't a thing moving out there. By this time Caesar had run back into the bedroom to begin the cycle all over again. After he left the first window, however, he came to a screeching halt when he saw me standing at the second window, arms folded. He froze and looked at me wide-eyed for a few seconds, when Tobey came trotting into the room. She looked at him. He looked at me. She looked at me. And then I tell you, they exchanged glances with each other, and then both casually turned and walked out of the room.

I don't know what sinister kitty plan I interrupted, but being the good mom that I am, I followed them to investigate. By the time I reached the living room, Tobey was perched in a window, talking to a bird outside. Caesar had backed into one corner to get a running start, and then proceeded to run around and around the tops of the living room couches at full speed. Across the loveseat, a sharp turn to run across the couch, leap over to the chair, and then run back to the loveseat. Rinse and repeat.

Deciding it was time to put an end to all this craziness, I walked into the bathroom, shut the door, and turned on the shower. Immediately both cats were stationed and meowing outside. They don't do so well with shut bathroom doors; Tobey because she has a permanent easement to your lap, and can't tell if you are sitting in there or not; and Caesar because he loves to watch the water run in the tub or shower and dip his paws in when he gets the chance. Sure enough, when I stepped out of the shower, all was quiet on the other side. Caesar had managed to shove an entire arm up to the shoulder under the door, and was patting it around (looking for a key?). Upon hearing the water shut off (and no doubt suspecting you could be sitting in there without her), Tobey stuck one of her paws in, too. This was too much for Caesar, as he has some sibling rivalry issues. Based on the sounds, and hours of observation, the following is a dramatic reenactment of what might have been happening on the other side of the door:

Caesar jumps on Tobey: "I was here FIRST!"
Tobey, body slamming Caesar: "You're such a brat!"
Caesar, jumping on her as she tries to walk away: "I'm telling MOM!"
Tobey, biting an ear: "Go ahead, cry baby."

And on and on until I open the door. Both cats struggled to untangle themselves and run into the bathroom. Caesar plops himself down into the damp floor of the tub. Tobey winds in and out of my legs, pretty as you please. It seems the craziness has abated for now. Gatos Wackos.