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An empty plastic grocery bag fell to the dining room floor as the groceries were being unloaded and put away. Great Rumpus Cat, twenty pounds of longhaired Maine Coon Cat, cautiously approached this intruder to her floor-level domain. Being timid about new experiences, Rumpus took time to sniff every exposed inch of the bag.
Eventually, she began exploring the white shiny surface of the bag. She nibbled at the edges. She pulled at the handles. She saw the opening into the bag and slowly put her nose into this newly discovered gap. Soon her entire, huge-for-a-cat, head followed. She was now totally engrossed in her exploration. She was a comical sight, for never could her large furry body have fit completely into the bag.
We will never know for sure what startled her. Rumpus probably doesn't know herself. Realizing suddenly how vulnerable she was with her head in the bag and her rump totally exposed (her long hair made it appear like she was wearing pantaloons with an opening for her tail), Rumpus tried to back out of the bag. Unfortunately, her massive front paw came to rest on one handle as her head was nearing the other handle. It looped over one of her ears. Instead of moving her paw, she yanked her head backwards. Securely anchored by her paw, the bag and its handle didn't move. Her head slipped into the loop of the handle.
Glistening white plastic seemed to have grabbed hold of her. When in a tight spot, Rumpus' first instinct is not to fight - it is to run. Only able to see from one eye, Rumpus began to run.
Caroming off of the dining room table, she raced into the living room, barely missing the rocking chair. She leapt on the coffee table, scattering newspapers, magazines and yesterday's mail to the four winds, and from there to the back of the couch, a prodigious leap for a twenty pound housecat. The plastic bag wouldn't release its grip
Precariously balanced, she ran along the back of the couch and leaped to the top cushion of the Lazy Boy in the corner of the room. Tripping over the now firmly attached bag, she fell to the floor, landing on her feet, as any cat would. In a blind panic, she ran along the wall behind the antique table, ripping lamp cords and extension cords from the wall receptacles. Rumpus then jumped to the arm of the other recliner and made another prodigious leap over the rocking chair back into the dining room.
This wild action brought out the other two cats in the house, rudely awakened from their naps, certain some great cat catastrophe was underway. Their backs were arched and now their tails were three times their normal size (Sam is a sturdily built gray male with extra toes on every foot and Florence Griffith Joyner is a dainty calico known for her great speed).
Rumpus wasn't in a mood to stop and explain. She defied gravity once again, hurdling the gate across the kitchen doorway (put there to discourage the big autistic guy from raiding the refrigerator). Landing on the slick linoleum floor, her extended claws failed to gain a purchase. With all four legs wildly flailing, she slid into the scratching post, causing an enormous crash. Momentum finally brought to a halt, her feet began to regain their function.
Baffled totally by this stubborn clinging bag over her head, she sought one of her favorite sanctuaries. Dashing through the bathroom door, glancing off the cold porcelain of the toilet, she very fortunately found the other bathroom door open, through which Sam and Flo Jo were trying to watch her amazing behavior. They quickly scattered as Rumpus blindly fled through the door, not caring who stood in her path.
She made a hard right into the master bedroom. Under the bed she went, hoping to escape to a silent, secure hiding place. Rumpus never seemed to realize that nothing past her front shoulders fit under the bed. As Sam and Flo Jo peeked into the room, all they could see was Rumpus' backend. Alas, she had wet her pantaloons.
Ian Wetherbee 12/01/99