Daddy Says: "He's Cunning"

Daddy recently experienced the famous Hank Psych. Clearly, he wasn't ready for it. He's used to dealing with dogs—those loveable, glad-to-know-you-and-how-can-I-please-you creatures. No match for a cat of Hank's caliber. It all started with kindness, on Daddy's part. (Immediately, Hank picked up on this sign of weakness.) We can't leave the cat door open at night because of raccoons in the neighborhood, so Hank has to stay in or out. (And he knows he can count on me to make sure he gets inside before I go to bed for good.) Like me, he is intensely claustrophobic and can't stand to be in something (even a house) unless he knows he can get out. So when we have to be away, I make him multiple warm, roof-covered beds on our deck—some down low, some up high, so he has choices—and our sweet neighbors see to all his dining needs. But near the end of this trip, the temps were scheduled to dip down into the 20s, and Daddy knew I had enough on my mind without worrying about "a cat." So he came over and spent the night at our house—and set about trying to coax Hank to come inside with him. With the exception of Mr. McKinney next door, whom Hank adores, this cat doesn't care for men. So Daddy has never been able to persuade him to come inside for guy-bonding over Animal Planet. This time, though, he was determined:

Daddy: It took a while, but I finally coaxed him inside with his food and some cat treats, and the minute I had him, I covered up that cat door. And I thought to myself, "I've gotcha now! You ain't goin' nowhere!"

Me: Mm-hmm. How'd that work out?

Daddy: That cat is cunning. You can't believe how cunning he is. He's the cunningest cat I've ever seen in my life!

Me: Do tell.

Daddy: Well, first he stood at the cat door and did this pitiful meow. So I tried baby-talking him, trying to settle him down. Then he came in here with me, and of all the purring and rubbing his head against my hand and ACTING like we were FRIENDS. I mean, he had me believing he LIKED me.

Me: Sounds about right. Then what happened?

Daddy: Well, then he went back to the cat door and looked back at me with that pitiful meowing. So I figured, now that he really likes me, I can let him out and he'll come right back in the house—you know—because we're friends now. So I opened the cat door.

Me: Didn't see him again, did you?

Daddy: Shot out of there like a rocket and never looked back.

The moral of this story: Never trust a cat who suddenly behaves like a dog; he's up to something.