Where Are The Cats?

Do you like honey? Don’t eat too much,
or it will make you sick!

JENNIFER SHOOK THE RAIN off her umbrella, then leaned it against the side of her pet-sitting client’s house. She retrieved a key from her pocket, unlocked the front door, and entered the dimly lit foyer.

“Plato . . . Aristotle . . . Socrates . . . Jack,” she called to the cats she had been taking care of all week.

No response.

“Here kitty, kitties. Where are you?”

Jennifer looked in the kitchen where Plato liked to play with the rug. She peeked in the family room expecting to see Aristotle and Jack wrestling with the curtains. She walked to Socrates’s favorite hiding spot behind a potted plant and looked under the dining room table where he would often nap after eating.

No cats anywhere.

She tried not to panic as she mentally retraced her steps from the night before. She had come by at seven and been greeted by four attention-seeking cats. She had cleaned the litter box, scooped kibble into their bowls, put down fresh water, and then played with them for a few minutes. All four had been happy, healthy, and accounted for when she left. What could have happened?

She checked the back door. It was securely locked. And all the bedroom doors in the home were closed.

“Kitties?” she yelled, somewhat frantically.

Suddenly, a muffled sound reached her straining ears. But it wasn’t a meow or a hiss. Was that a moan?

Jennifer willed the sound to repeat again.

There! It was coming from the laundry room.

Jennifer ran to the room and stopped in the doorway. There, lying on the tiled floor, were all four cats—each sprawled with legs fully extended and with the roundest bellies she had ever seen.

“What in the world?” Jennifer spoke softly and knelt down to pet Jack.

The Russian Blue was sleeping in a pile of kibble. Jennifer’s gaze followed a path of dry food to the source—an open and empty container lying on its side. Jennifer racked her brain. She thought she had closed the lid securely after feeding the cats last night. Either her memory was going, or the cats had somehow managed to pop off the lid and then feasted nonstop on their plunder.

Jennifer moved to Plato, running her hand over his distended belly. A deep feline moan escaped his half-open mouth, making his long whiskers vibrate.

“Oh, you guys!” Jennifer chastised. “How much did you eat?”

Socrates opened one eye and looked at her.

“Just couldn’t stop, huh, buddy?”

The gray cat closed his eye.

“You okay, Aristotle?” she asked, bending down to scratch him between his ears.

The tan-and-white cat raised his head for a moment, before it thudded back to the floor.

After making sure the food-coma patients had fresh water, Jennifer jotted down the name of the food she needed to buy to refill the container. Then she let herself out and drove back home.

When she arrived, she took off her boots and coat and headed straight for the bowl of Christmas candy on the kitchen counter. Instinctively, she grabbed a heaping handful as she walked by. But suddenly a picture of four comatose, gluttonous cats passed through her mind.

She dropped all but a single piece back into the bowl. “Maybe I should just have one today,” she said to herself, chuckling.

PAWS & PONDER . . .

It’s been said that “too much of anything can be bad.” Do you agree with this statement? Can you think of an example from your own life when too much of a good thing caused a problem? What do you need to “put back in the bowl” today, in order to maintain balance and moderation?

Paws & Pray

Lord, there are so many good and worthwhile things competing for my time, attention, and resources. Please grant me greater self-control so I know when to say “enough”—even to good things. Help me to choose you first and then trust you to help me balance the rest.