Party Under the Fridge

Yesterday, my very dear friend Kiki (not her real name--don't forget that sushi!) came over and brought me a giant bowl of homemade soup. It's the soup her mom always made when she and her sister were sick. Kiki is just about the most generous and big-hearted human being you will ever meet. She is totally neato. And the soup was extra yummy, in addition to being good for me. Kiki knew that I wasn't eating well because I don't feel up to cooking anything more complicated than a piece of toast; even that's pushing it--I have to get out the butter, too, AND a knife! Jeez. So anyway, Kiki and her daughter came over and I got fed, and my cat got a little extra play time.

Kiki's kids had brought Sylvie a toy as a present one of the last times they were here. I told little Miss S that Sylvie had adored that toy, so much so that she played with it for two days straight without resting and then promptly lost it. I told Miss S (pictured at right in horrid sunglasses of mine) that the toy was "probably under the fridge or something." That was all she needed to hear! She immediately zoomed into the kitchen and got down to peer into the dark under the fridge. "I see it, I see it!" came the excited cry only seconds later. Kiki and I, being responsible, mature adults, were instantly skeptical and did pretty much nothing to encourage her. I didn't have anything at the time with which to fish stuff out from dusty dark scary places (this is my paltry justification). Well, little Miss S showed us what was up--she marched back into the living room in about 20 more seconds with a sparkly orange toy squeezed in her little hand. Take that, you mature, responsible grown-up people!

Since yesterday, Sylvie has rekindled her affair with the sparkly orange toy (with the red fringies on top) and has been batting it around maniacally, yanking out electrical cords and tipping over furniture in her wake. That is, until she swatted it into the kitchen and under the fridge again. Oh woe. I decided to take a peek under there armed with a newly discovered yard stick and an LED flashlight. Holy crap! There was a whole population of abandoned kitty entertainment whooping it up under there! I believe they were only minutes away from founding a system of government and delegating authority. I found no fewer than FOUR Guatemalan cloth catnip mice, her favorite skunk beanie toy, two practice golf balls, several twisty ties, an empty pill bottle, and a whole herd of dust-ridden packing peanuts. Sylvie had been busy.

I diligently hoisted them out before they could further their incipient civilization, with absolutely no help at all from the cat, who kept trying to play with each item as it came out into the light. As I cleaned each one of clinging dust bunnies, I threw it into the living room, hoping to distract her. This ploy worked for approximately 1.3 nanoseconds each time, with decreasing returns as I recovered each toy. She was much more interested in the action and all the gunk stubbornly adorning her liberated toy arsenal.

Now, they are finally all clean and Sylvie is continuing her frenzied reacquaintance with her long-lost friends, sounding like a whole pride of tiny lions as she thumples across the hardwood floor, slides and then crashes into the bookcase; ricochets off the futon and flings the carpet up against the piano bench as she launches off it... Then a sudden and dangerous foray into the kitchen. Thank goodness I managed to put up a quick cardboard barrier on the bottom of the fridge before she scooted any toys back in that direction. No more secret parties or budding cat toy municipalities under my kitchen appliances!