Really?
Garrison Keillor
Tossup was one of my husband's crazy cats. Sleek, black, small, yellow-eyed, quiet, and sneaky. This was a little boy, maybe, 3 pounds soaking wet.
The cat didn't know he was little. He wanted to tussle with the bigger, older cats. The older cats wouldn't fight him. The bigger cats would gently bat the little cat like he was a toy. They never hurt him. The older cats were laughing at him. Sometimes the other cats would toss him in the air, henceforth his name.
The cat slept on my husband's head every night. He was bad. If there was something you didn't want cats to do, he would do whatever it was as soon as you turned your back.
One Thanksgiving, my husband and I were having friends over to celebrate. It was a potluck. We were providing Turkey, cranberry sauce, and honey carrots.
We set the table with our best dishes and cloth napkins. The turkey came out beautifully. It was golden brown, stuffed with homemade sausage dressing, with the legs tied together with a bow. It looked like perfection.
My husband was headed to the back yard to make sure our jacuzzi was hot for anyone who wanted to soak after dinner. We lived at the top of a small hill with a nice overlook. One reason our house was great for entertainment was that we could sit in the jacuzzi and chill with our friends.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the turkey move on the table. He stopped and looked again. The turkey moved. When my spouse walked over, Toss-up had gripped the turkey. He was attempting to pull that turkey across the table to the floor. My husband started laughing very hard, which attracted me over.
The turkey was twice as big as the cat.
My reaction was a little different. I swatted at Tossup then put the turkey back on the platter.
Our cats were not allowed on our dinner table or kitchen counters. They could climb up everywhere else. We had no problems leaving food out, as far as we knew, before then.
Toss-up jumped on the floor and ran, but not too far away. He wanted to know what we would do. No, cat, you can't have the entire turkey. Go away.
I took the turkey over to the sink to wash it. I cut off the pieces the cat had touched, then put the entire turkey back in the oven.
My spouse locked Toss-up in the garage. The cat was not sorry. He purred loudly as my husband picked him up to put him in the garage. He was pleased with himself.
When our guests arrived, two couples, we told them the story. The pet owners ate turkey with us; the non-pet owners had dinner with no turkey.
Thinking back, I wonder how much cat spit I had eaten over time if Toss-up was jumping on the table.
Oh, well. That cat was one crazy boy. He amused us greatly.
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