Cat Burglar

In a whimsical turn of events, Humphrey the cat transformed into a mischievous whirlwind of fur and curiosity during the summer he and I lived with my parents, igniting chaos in the household. Mom's makeup pencils were carefully stored on a shelf in the bathroom, and the alluring colors beckoned to him like an artist's palette. With an athletic jump to the shelf and a swift swat of his paw, he sent the pencils tumbling to the floor, scattering them like fallen soldiers in what could only be described as a feline art invasion. After playfully batting them around the basement, he would stealthily shove them under the door of our storage area and tuck them around the corner out of sight. As he basked in his artful thievery, his gaze landed on the crinkly bag of peanuts left tantalizingly within reach next to Dad's recliner. Unbeknownst to him, this would soon result in a delightful snack catastrophe, as he gleefully swatted the bag open, sending peanuts rolling across the room like tiny orbs of joy.

Next Humphrey spotted a shiny assortment of pens perched precariously atop the phone stand. With the grace of a seasoned thief, Humphrey stealthily approached, his tail twitching in excitement. One by one, he batted the pens off the stand, their vibrant colors rolling enticingly across the floor. Each time he captured one, he'd pounce playfully, his tiny paws wrestling with the lightweight object as if it were elusive prey. It wasn't long before he decided to stash his treasures for later, deftly nudging them underneath the closet door, adding to his secret cache from his playful escapades. This hoard of items served as a source of nighttime entertainment, as Humphrey would sneak out items for a round of solo play, while we slept soundly upstairs.

Every evening, my father immersed himself in the newspaper, completely oblivious to the mischief of my fluffy friend. Humphrey would dart around the family room, scramble up the carpet-covered post near the stairs, jump onto the table, and then dash over to Dad, who was comfortably seated in his recliner. Humphrey would then leap right into the pages of the newspaper, his paws landing heavily and causing a flurry of ink and paper to scatter into the air. Dad, taken by surprise, would exclaim and grumble with irritation as his focused reading transformed into an unexpected show from the cat. That summer, filled with delightful chaos, Humphrey’s playful antics etched unforgettable memories that would be shared during dinners for many years, highlighting the joy, laughter, and delightful unpredictability he introduced to our household.

The next fall, Humphrey and I moved into our own home, and I quickly discovered that my feline companion retained his penchant for mischief that was as charming as it was perplexing. While I was away at work, Humphrey showcased his uniquely feline personality by stealthily stealing various household items and discreetly stashing them away in the most unexpected of places—particularly within the confines of the old box spring in the spare room bed. Each day, I would hunt for a colorful assortment of missing items from socks to pens, and even the occasional stray cat toy. One day, as I was cleaning, I discovered Humphrey's unique hiding place. After that, Humphrey's thievery became a playful game of hide and seek, as I’d periodically venture to retrieve my belongings, only to be met with Humphrey's proud face peeking out from the bed frame, as if to say, "Look what I've found!" As I embraced these daily discoveries, our bond deepened, transforming what could have been mere theft into a delightful part of our shared adventure that continued throughout our life together.

When Humphrey and I embarked on our new adventure in a cozy little house, I thought we would leave his stealing behind; however, it didn’t take long for his mischievous nature to once again reveal itself. It began innocently enough, with the occasional paw poking at my snack stash, but soon escalated into a full-blown cat burglar operation. Each day as I returned home from work, I would find he had stealthily prowled the kitchen counters to access the high shelf where the cat treats were cleverly hidden. The pouch of treats would lay open upon the floor, and he would stare innocently at me with his golden eyes.

Having recognized that I was dealing with a clever expert, I had no alternative but to restrict him to a single room upstairs. I set up a cozy chair, his litter box, and food bowls in that space, then securely closed the sliding door at the bottom of the stairs before heading off to work. Upon my return that afternoon, I discovered the door ajar and my noticeably plump cat lounging on the kitchen counter. Curious about his escape route, I placed him back in the room and firmly shut the door. Almost immediately, I heard Humphrey banging his head against the door until a small crack formed. He then clawed at the door until it slid open, allowing him to stride back into the kitchen with ease. After a swift visit to Ace Hardware, I confidently fitted a hook lock on the door. I once again placed Humphrey in the room, closed the door, and secured the lock. As I listened to his muffled protests and the gentle thuds of his attempts to break free, I couldn't help but giggle. Although I felt a twinge of guilt, I understood that it was necessary to prevent his mischievous behavior. Ironically, confining him only seemed to intensify his resolve; each morning I found myself chuckling at his antics as he meowed for attention, a constant reminder that in our household, his rules were the ones that truly mattered.

Years later, in a humorous turn of events, Humphrey resurfaced as the infamous culinary burglar of the household, evoking memories of his snack-snatching days but adding a touch of the outrageous. Now a rotund and fluffy cat boasting a swagger that matched his reputation, Humphrey developed an insatiable appetite. One day, I recalled something I had left behind at school, so I turned off the spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove and crossed the street to retrieve the forgotten object. Upon my return, I found the lid of the sauce strewn on the floor and a trail of orange paw prints leading down the basement stairs. Following the tracks, I discovered Humphrey joyfully licking sauce off his fur. On another occasion, he embarked on yet another daring venture, stealthily maneuvering across the kitchen counter, opening a cupboard, and pilfering a dozen fortune cookies. We found the scattered fortunes on the basement stairs, but all the cookies had vanished. With a grin that only a cat could possess, he persisted in his thieving antics, amassing a collection of stolen goods that included frozen steaks, treats for both cats and dogs, food from inadequately guarded plates, and even a pot roast. Yet amid the chaos, there was an undeniable allure; Humphrey had evolved from an irritating presence into a cherished family legend, embodying the joy of mischief and the laughter that trailed behind him.

As the years rolled by, Humphrey's escapades became the stuff of family lore. Friends and neighbors would laugh as I recounted tales of his culinary crimes, each story more outrageous than the last. One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in warm hues, I settled in with a book, hoping for a quiet night. But as I turned the pages, the familiar sound of faint scratching and clattering reached my ears. Curiosity piqued, I followed the sounds to the kitchen, where I found my elderly companion perched atop the counter, a triumphant look gleaming in his eyes. He had ingeniously opened a cupboard despite the childproof locks we had installed. He was now proudly claiming a bag of treats I thought I had securely tucked away.

In that moment, I couldn't suppress my laughter. A warm wave of affection washed over me as I realized what an irreplaceable part of my life he had become. Instead of scolding him, I offered him a single treat. To my surprise, he delicately took it from my hand, his golden eyes radiating pure gratitude.

The legacy of mischief and joy left by my beloved companion imparts the wisdom that life is truly enjoyable when infused with a bit of disorder and a touch of humor. Each pilfered cookie and concealed pencil came to symbolize the distinctive tales we crafted together—recollections that would endure well past his lifetime. By embracing his spirited playfulness, I discovered a valuable insight: to value the whimsical nature of existence—and to keep a stash of extra goodies tucked away for the successors of delightful feline rogues who succeeded him.