Letting the Cat out of the Bag, Vintage Punch print (1920s)
Ask Teenie Longfellow, and she’ll tell you: last weekend was fraught with peril.
Sure, it started out lovely. The bedding had all been washed and fluffed; the window shades were pulled; rays of sunlight flooded in; and tissue paper and twine mingled on the ground. But that’s where it began to unravel . . .
Not that she wasn’t warned, mind you.
Bring it up and she’ll suddenly avoid eye contact, faking ignorance. But it’s true. As I got up from wrapping gifts, I told her in no uncertain terms to stay away from that plastic bag. It’s not a toy, I said, as I limped off to the kitchen for glass of water (What can I say? Sitting on the floor ain’t what it used to be).
Next thing I knew there was a kerfuffle in back: a thud, a hiss, another thud followed by blur of white rustling around the kitchen table, ricocheting off the cupboard. The white fury made it mid-way through the third lap before my brain registered it as Teenie, all a dither, her head stuck in the handle of a plastic bag from Target.
Next thing you know, I’m on her heels, trying to get her stop. Round and around we went–down the hall, around the table; around the table, down the hall.
I did manage to break her free–but not before the house plant went a flyin’, potting soil falling like confetti, nails and tufts of fur littered the ground, the house in complete disarray.
When all was said and done, she immediately had to lie down. I felt something of the same.
Whole new meaning to letting the cat out of the bag, that . . .
Hah awwwww poor Teenie. I may have let her just deal with the bag for awhile until she learned, hey don't mess with my stuffs. 🙂 Although your house would have probably been in shambles afterward
My recent post The Bare Arms of Trees
Well, from the look of the bag when all was said and done, she would have freed herself in about a minute or two.
And I suppose I should have included a disclaimer: no animals were harmed in the making of this post. I was telling the tale to the old girls and one was aghast. I had to talk her down . . . make sure she knew I did not leave random plastic bags around the house on a regular basis. 🙂
Funny stuff! Hate cleaning up those plant messes…why is there usually an animal involved with those?
I don't know, but it ain't right!
Good thing they're cute (the animals, not the plants, naturally).