Bloggin' Umholtz

Everything was just Purr-fic

         Yesterday’s entry was remiss in that I didn’t include the “rest of the story”. I was pressed for time so I gave the portion of the story dealing with keeping Purry off of the kitchen counter just a cursory sentence or two. It deserves better than that and not telling you more has bothered me since yesterday. So with that thought in mind I’ve decided to complete the story of Purry’s education by electricity in today’s entry.

         Upon having achieved such a resounding success in training Purry to not jump on the screen door, my Dad decided it was time to tackle the problem of the cat and the countertop. Purry liked to wander around the house at night while everyone was asleep. More than once we were awakened by the sound of a piano playing as Purry walked across the keys. She seemed to be particularly fond of that and we even found her sleeping on top of the keys on occasion.

         By far her worst habit was jumping on the kitchen counter. We kept a metal bowl sitting next to the sink into which all items compostable were placed. It would normally get emptied nightly, but on occasion, especially in sub-zero temperatures it seemed to get missed. Purry would leap on the counter and root through the bowl scattering the contents willy-nilly, probably more willy than nilly, but it would have been a close call.

         Pop had a piece of metallic cloth in the basement, the kind used to make flame retardant clothing. One night just before bed we hauled the transformer/starting coil contraption, the metal cloth, and a small rubber disc up from the basement. We placed the cloth on the counter, set the rubber disk in the middle and [laced the metal bowl on top of the disk. One lead was attached to the metal cloth. One lead was attached to the bowl. Standing their admiring our handiwork I could tell something was bothering Pop. Finally he voiced his concern.

         “How are we going to know if it works?” He pondered out loud.

         Thinking for a minute I reverted back to some of the hunting and trapping skills I had read about and a light bulb suddenly went on in my head.

         “I know!” I responded as I reached for the canister of flour. Taking the scoop I spread flour on the countertop completely around the metallic cloth.

         “If she walks in the flour,” I said, “she’ll leave foot prints.” Smugly satisfied with our efforts, we set the throttle on half speed and retired for the night.

         It was summertime and I had a job working at the warehouse at the factory where my Dad worked. We would get up early – 4:30- 5:00 AM to get ready for work. The next morning, in the dark we came downstairs. I flipped on the light switch and the two of us stood there, dumbfounded.

         The steel bowl was clean across the kitchen up against the refrigerator and the metallic cloth was way over on the other side by the back door. And…there was flour everywhere. There was flour on the ceiling, the walls, the floor and even the window. It hung in the air, in what I feel sure now, must’ve been near explosive limits (Yes, flour can be made to explode. No, I’m not telling you how.) We looked at each other and burst out laughing.

         We spent the next hour cleaning up. We never had occasion to electrify the cat again, which is probably a good thing, as I’m not sure how many more lives she had left at that point.

         I’m certain though, that once in a while, Pop was juicin’ himself in the basement. I think he liked it way too much not to.