When the Cats Away...

It's mischief night, the night when all the real goblins and witches go out and get up to....well, mischief. This is the night for highflying Glenda's and land locked Igor's to teepee houses (witches on broomsticks give that roll of toilet paper a nice high and tight look) soap windows with soap made of ghoul's bones and ready to snatch up any bit of sugar they might find. Then, on Hallow'een the JackO'Lanterns can light the way for the little human goblins, ghosties and ghoulies to go about their job of Highway Robbery.

This morning I found the cats all gathered in a circle talking amongst themselves. BatGirl, the Calico, shushed them all when I came into the room, sleepy eyes looking for a coffee pot, and I spoke to them. "What's up kids?" Tousle my hair now...yawn...they ignore me, walking their separate ways. There are six of them. Lillibet, the newest among them, giggles. She is still so tiny and the girls (Hound and Cher anyway, grooming another being beneath BatGirl's dignity) are constantly washing her (or tenderizing her for a cannibal feast). This is her first Hallow'een. I pay them no attention, I go through this ritual every year. The cats are sneaky and pondering ways to trip me up. Normally so loving and gentle, they get taken over by the spirit(s) of the season long about now.

Except for Pye. The big fat Siamese, blue eyes shining, refuses to get out of his favorite chair, rolls and shows his belly for a good scratch on the tummy, and promises to tell all. Later. As I head back to the bedroom, coffee cup in hand, it dawns on me that for ten years now, Pye has promised to tell all. He never has. When Ariel (that sleek black witches cat with green glowing eyes) was the Queen of the house, I never expected him to break his vow of silence, but now that BatGirl is Resident Queen, I expect it even less. You see, BatGirl is a Psychopath. She takes delight in ripping the heads off tiny mice and the stray grackle that wanders into her sight. She charms snakes and sends them off to the happy hunting grounds with aplomb. There are times that when I catch her gaze on me, I wonder what she's planning. I know she's planning something...cats are always planning something.

So here we are, Mischief night, and when I awaken tomorrow, my taken over Pride...BatGirl, Pyewacit, Hound, Sonny and Cher plus Lillibet will all return to normal. But the key word here is return. Because you see, for some odd reason that I've never been able to put my finger on, they'll disappear long bout midnight. No one will want breakfast. No one will want noise. They'll all want an icepack for their aching heads. Now that's a party I'm glad I'll be missing.