Odd O'blography

Charlie versus the Shopping Bag

Charlie is my son's furry partner. He began life as a shelter cat with poor prospects. His luck changed when he met a guy who needed a pal. Their story begins here: Charlie & Roy .

Charlie became the third black cat in our house when Roy moved back in with us two years ago. We already had a brother and sister pair of bob-tailed Manx that were ten years older and set in their ways. They didn't really want to welcome a long-tailed new 'cousin'. Charlie was still a kitten then, and his disruptive energy brought only disdain from the elder pair.

The most notable thing about Charlie is his Jekyll & Hyde nature. He loves to ambush the older cats and play 'chase', but never hisses or bites. He'll make frantic leaps at the cat toys, but rarely shows his claws. Roy says he has good fundamentals, making the catch with both paws. Charlie will stalk a mouse intently, waiting craftily to pounce, but usually takes them unharmed. He's brought three live mice home to play, leaving us to wonder if he needs a pet of his own.

Charlie likes to wrestle with us but seems to understand that human skin is fragile. Other cats might grab your arm and rake it painfully with their hind claws, but not Charlie. He knows it's all in fun and keeps the claws retracted when grappling. And the mock battle almost always ends with 'kissy licks' to make up. Our cats often dig in and leave puncture wounds when jumping down from a lap, but Charlie is more courteous.

Like most cats, Charlie can't resist an empty box or bag. Every new Amazon carton has to be tried on for size as soon as the contents are removed. He'll nose his way into a shopping tote and then turn to peek out from the hidden lair. He loves it when someone taps on the outside so he can make a blind attack from the inside. But one day, his innocent bag play took a darker turn.

My wife was putting away groceries and a plastic bag drifted down onto the floor. Charlie was on the case immediately. He found the opening and wormed his way in as usual, but when he turned to peek out, his head found the hole in the handle. We heard the bag flap and looked to see Charlie frantically backing up with the bag stuck around his neck.

"Charlie, you goofball," I laughed.

"Help him, please," Deb said with more concern.

"C'mere guy, calm down."

I tried to catch him, but Charlie was in full panic mode. That vicious bag chased him out of the kitchen, around the living room, and down the stairs. He couldn't shake it and we could hear the bag fluttering behind him as he raced into Roy's basement room and dove under the bed.

"Hey, what're you doing to my cat?"

Roy was gaming and hadn't really seen what the commotion was all about.

"You'd better coax him out and save the poor boy," I suggested.

I was still laughing, and Roy was indignant at my lack of concern. The bed frame sits in a corner, Roy couldn't reach him, and Charlie wasn't going to risk coming out. After a minute or two, I decided to lift up the mattress so Roy could be the hero and vanquish that dastardly bag.

You'll be relieved to learn that Charlie was uninjured, although the mental trauma lingered for minutes. And it was at least an hour before Charlie went back to playing with the bag again.