Retired or Something

This is Spooky the Cat. The only cat that has ever been allowed to live in my house. He came with a roommate that moved out seven or eight years ago. Spooky is now seventeen.

Spooky once amused himself by hunting. His favorite prey was my late great dog, Dallas. Because she would freak out. Check it out:

Before the cancer got her, Dallas was sixty pounds of jump-the-fence muscle and this 12 pound cat would stalk, strike and watch her go insane. Shadow still looks around the corner before he heads down a hallway - that's how dangerous this cat was.

This morning Spooky was sitting in the kitchen as I was walking out the door. I saw him staring at something on the floor. It was one of those bugs that my friend Carol (who used to kill them for me at the office) called "thousand leggers". Several inches long.

I don't do well with bugs.

I waited to see if he was going to take care of it for me. He sat watching for a minute. Waiting to pounce? I grabbed a big magazine, just in case. The bug was gone. Did Spooky eat it? I followed his eyes. No, there it is. Wait - Spooky is moving in. He batted it with his paw. It ran. He batted it again.

Dude. Are you just playing? You are going to lose it. I slammed the magazine down. Spooky vanished. He doesn't appreciate loud noises.

What are we paying him for, anyway?