Domino, Part 2: The Purple Pillow Stomper

We all have quirks, oddities, and sometimes-even eccentricities. That, in my humble opinion, is the frosting on life’s cake. Some of our traits are adorable, while others fall squarely into the disgusting category. There is a reasonable certainty that I am composed of a sprinkling from both recipes, and whether anyone wants to admit it or not, that is true to some degree of everyone.

Domino was quirky too. One might describe this Siamese cat as a fur-bag with four legs, filled with quirks and purrs. He was cunning, playful, and somehow dignified all at the same time.

My other sister Cindy kept her room all girly-like, as is often the case with girls.  On her dresser was an assortment of girly-sort-of-things, including a little tiny chair that was really a pincushion. The pincushion part was a little round purple pillow, about two inches in diameter.

For some reason, Domino decided that the little purple pillow was the cats meow, and he stole it at every opportunity. I recall Cindy scolding him several times, until I think she just gave up and let him keep it.

The quirky part of Domino’s purple pillow fetish is what he would do with it. I don’t think he played with it all that much, aside from batting it around for a few seconds after someone threw it at him. No, his favorite purple pillow activity was to wait until there was a crowd gathered in the living room.

Then he would stroll proudly into the center of the room; purple pillow in his jaws, as if he were carrying a freshly killed rabbit. When he was sure that everyone was watching he would drop the pillow on the floor, take a step forward, and proceed to stomp on it with his hind paw. Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp.

I suppose that we may never know precisely what, or why he did that. I suspect he was taunting us, or more precisely, taunting my sister.  Was he thinking something like… “See the stupid purple pillow that you said I couldn’t have. Look at me everybody. I have the purple pillow, and I can stomp on it, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Perhaps, if he was indeed thinking such thoughts, he was right. We should have known we were up against a master after experiencing the Houdini impersonation. No one could figure out how “the cat” kept getting out of the basement.

I don’t remember why we were shutting him down there, but whenever we did, it wasn’t long before Domino would come strolling into the room again. The basement door was open, and the cat was no longer a prisoner.

We solved that mystery one day, when we heard a strange thumping noise just prior to seeing Domino (he was supposed to be in the basement). It turns out that Domino taught himself how doorknobs work.

The thumping noise was his body hitting the door as he would jump up to grab the (regular, round style) doorknob with his paws. After just a few tries, he could turn the knob enough that the latch would pop open. Then it was just kitten’s-play to push the door the rest of the way.

Who said Domino was just a cat?  Ha! Be sure to come back for more, because the Domino stories are anything but finished.

Copyright ©2007 by Phil Harris

Comments

[Chris]

I think this wasn't just a cat!!! Keep em coming!!!

[Peggy]

I love your stories, especially this one. It reminds me of the night I awoke to the sound of my bedroom doorknob being rattled. I finally discovered (after a few panic stricken minutes) that my cat was on the other side trying to turn the knob and open the door!

Peggy
http://petcaring.blogspot.com

[Peggy]

I love your stories, especially this one. It reminds me of the night I awoke to the sound of my bedroom doorknob being rattled. I finally discovered (after a few panic stricken minutes) that my cat was on the other side trying to turn the knob and open the door!

Peggy
http://petcaring.blogspot.com

[Phil]

I can see how that might give you the willies.

If only cats could talk. I would particularly love sit and have chat with them... just to see what's going on in those little heads.

Phil