Nobody Can Say It's You

8

When Hadley arrived home, dusk was settling in. She unloaded her groceries and set out on a search for Onus. Usually, the tabby would at least peek in the kitchen. But not today. 

He's pouting, she thought.

She flipped on the light to the dining room. Eureka! There he was.

Onus sat squarely behind one leg of her dining room table. His eyes split the leg, peering out at her like a mystic with a long bar hiding his nose and forehead.

"Big boy," Hadley said, "you really are miffed. Did I stay away too long? I can't believe you missed me that much. Oh, Onus. You're such a big bad baby boy."

Then, it hit her. She was supposed to empty his litter box this morning, but with all of the things she'd had planned, and unplanned, that chore had totally slipped her mind.

"Onus, old bird," Hadley said, "you really must forgive me. I've been rushed all day. I simply forgot, old man. It just slipped my mind. Absentmindedness is a characteristic trait of an old lady, I'm afraid."

Onus did not move. He did not make a sound. He was really ticked.

"Boy, you are irate. I can see that. Haven't moved a muscle in the last couple of minutes. Let's see if I can't right this wrong, too. It seems like that's all I've been doing all day."

Hadley cleaned out the cat's litter box. She washed up and wiped off the counters. She did a little more cleaning, careful to keep an eye out for any "gift" the irate tabby might have left her. 

Such gifts illustrated his displeasure with her for forgetting to dump his litter box that morning. She found two small offerings outside the litter box, and she dutifully disposed of them.

What was with that cat? Hadley wondered. 

It was like he had his own built-in clock or something. Hadley was convinced he knew the exact hour she usually emptied the litter box. Her routine was twice daily, but not today.

"Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit," Hadley said.

The instant the litter box was clean Onus came out from behind the table leg.

"I guess that's my signal that you want your dinner," Hadley said.

Her phone rang.

***

"Hey, Anna."

She shoved the receiver under her ear, crunching her neck in a horribly awkward position to hold it in place, and continued to get Onus' cat food can from the cupboard.

"I'm thinking about running a competition for our students to encourage them to read," said Anna.

"That sounds like a big turnoff," Hadley said.

"I know," said Anna, "but what if some of our locals, of any age, posted things online about books they'd read or wrote things for the others to read. 

I could do something like 'encourage your friends who have written online.' It could be poetry or short stories or essays about their favorite books. What do you think?"

"I think that's an excellent idea," said Hadley. "It will give the kids a reason to read and write if they feel like it. And I just love contests."

"I know," said Anna, remembering the many dishes she'd tasted when Hadley had won all that goat cheese. "But the prizes would be for the kids."

"I don't care," said Hadley. "A contest is a contest. You know I'm in. How are you going to run it?"

"I don't know," Anna said. "I haven't got all the details figured out. I just wanted to bounce the idea off someone to see if it was plausible."

"What if, we had a raffle to raise some money? Whatever we came up with, whether it is $20 or 200, we'll use to fund the prizes for your contest."

"That would work," said Anna. "If we could spark the parents' interest and give them a sense that they are involved, we could make this thing work."

"I've got a quilt I could donate. I'm sure Maury's got some things. Maybe Bill would donate one of his wood carvings. Hobie might donate a dulcimer. 

We could make it a potpourri kind of raffle prize that would interest a lot of different folks. Skippy might donate one of his handmade hunting knives. 

I'll ask around to see who else might be interested in throwing some craft or handmade item into the prize pot. We'll never know who might donate what until we ask around."

"Good," said Anna. "I'll start working up some ideas on how the website should look. Maybe we can make it interactive. Add some videos. Make it really colorful. Maybe add some slideshows and stuff. I want to get the kid's attention. I'll look around and get some ideas. Thanks for your input, Hadley."

"Talk to you soon," said Hadley.

***

Hadley turned around to locate Onus. He'd found a small sack she'd dropped on the floor and had managed to cram his big body inside it. Only his nose and eyes stuck out. That cat was in sack heaven.

"I didn't mean to drop that little bag," Hadley said, "but if it makes you that happy, I'm glad I did. At least it made you forget your litter box pout."

"Reooow," said Onus, contentedly.

"Have your fun," she said. "I'm going out in the garage and open a few cans of food for my supper."

Onus followed her with his big omniscient eyes. 

If she ever opened a can with the can opener in her kitchen, like normal folks, it drove Onus crazier than catnip. Was it the motor on the can opener that drove him bananas? 

She'd never figured it out.

To avoid cat mischief, it was just easier to step into the garage, open her cans, and come back into the kitchen with them. At least, he let her cook the ingredients without bothering to notice. 

That was one thing about living alone. She could just imagine what Harry would say if she stepped conveniently out to the garage every time she needed to open a can.

But such was life with a house cat.

It's good to remember to choose your battles carefully, Hadley thought as the motorized machine opened can after can.

Once in a while, Onus might let you win.