The Cat Stole My Straw

(Sounds like a good title for a collection of short stories, doesn't it? If I ever get around to writing a book, I'm going to name it The Cat Stole My Straw & Other Tales of Feline Insurrection.)

I loved sipping drinks through a straw when I was little. To be more specific, I loved the noise the flexible straws made when they were bent. I felt like they were talking to me, and I would talk back. I guess it was my version of an imaginary friend.

As an adult, for a long time the only straws I encountered were of the Starbucks variety: green, unyielding, and sharp enough to cut your lip. I wasn't a fan. But then, when I was just shy of 27 weeks pregnant, I was hospitalized with pre-term labor and put on the oh-so-dreaded magnesium sulfate IV. I had to go on a liquid diet for a while, and the nurses brought me cups of soup and glasses of water - with straws.

Photo courtesy of colsart on stock.xchng.

I had already been on bedrest for a month; how was it that I hadn't discovered this simple trick? I'm a klutz at the best of times, but it is tough to drink from a glass when you are in a semi-reclined position and have a belly the size of Epcot Center. I had dribbled, dripped and outright poured gallons of water on myself while drinking my daily 432 million ounces. (Ok, so I exaggerate here. I was really only required to drink 431 million ounces a day.)

And so my love affair with the straw burned afresh. We stocked up at home, and after the babies arrived, I found that straws were great for drinking my water while nursing, too. In fact, we bought so many that I still have three left, ten months later. (Hey, the babies are ten months old today! I can't believe it!!)

Well - to be precise, I now have two left. Because Celerity stole one. The brazen little stinker took it right out of my glass last night, when I wasn't looking. I wasn't quite sure what had happened until the Master Chief stepped on it hours later, and we discovered the telltale puncture marks left by tiny kitty teeth. I don't know what her fascination is with long cylindrical objects, but she is obsessed.

Once she stole an entire spear of asparagus right off my dinner plate. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen her running across the floor, victoriously dragging the asparagus beside her like the spoils of war. (It was a huge asparagus spear, and she is a small cat.) She ran out of the room and slipped under a bed, where she gnawed possessively on her prize while I tried to wriggle after her. It's a good thing asparagus isn't toxic for cats, because that spear was history by the time I caught her!

Sometimes I wish I knew what was going on in her crazy little cat-brain. I wonder if she thought the straw was another yummy asparagus spear? If so, I bet she got a nasty surprise when she tried to eat it!

(ETA: I wrote this yesterday, but didn't get a chance to publish it. Wouldn't you know, that silly cat has now absconded with a second straw. Apparently this is a new game.)