Catnip Mobster

            In the quiet days of my early adulthood, coming home from work meant the promise of a relaxing evening with a romance novel and a cup of chamomile tea. How I long for those moments! These days, leaving work is the first step in a series that lead to the discovery of awaiting disasters at home. Every afternoon I pause at the garden gate – what waits on the other side?  The mangled body of a crow, the discarded remains of yet another bamboo scratch post, tufts of cat hair lying around the yard, dead frogs piled at the French door, a note from an irate neighbor – not a single of these situations would surprise me. Every afternoon around four, I sigh, close the gate and start the clean up.

            Who, you might be wondering, is the culprit of this daily mischief? One year ago, I rescued a tiny orange kitten and made the promise to provide shelter and love to him for the rest of his days. Manicito, as I dubbed him, seemed to be the ideal kitten - he slept during the night, learned to use a litter-box quickly, and became fast friends with the household dog; yet within a few weeks, Mani started to misbehave. His antics began innocently – food snuck off the table when no one was looking, a few shredded shoelaces; after six months, shoelaces graduated to shower curtains. A year later, Mani’s crimes have landed him the status of local mobster.

            Taking a break from cleaning up the most recent crime (the complete annihilation of my favorite potted viola, I have to ask – why did the adorable kitten “go bad”?

Wherever the fault may lie, there is no denying that the adorable kitten I brought home has turned into a brawling tomcat, running rampant through our charming neighborhood with his loyal neighbor and sidekick Chancho*,  a fat black and white cat with a personality like Jack Black’s famous character Nacho Libre. Together they rule the streets, sneaking around from porch to porch, consuming all the food they can find in unprotected food bowls, attacking neighboring dogs, and generally causing as much havoc as possible while at the same time looking sweet and cuddly. It is a well-known fact on our block that any catnip, whether kept under lock or naively left sitting on a pantry shelf, ultimately belongs to Mani and Chancho – and ill tidings for the human or animal that gets in their way! Although their network may not cover as much mileage as the Mafia, this criminal duo stoops to levels of crime that would make the Godfather blush.

            Considering the company that Mani keeps now in his adult life of crime, is it possible that his delinquent ways found their beginnings under the tutelage of kitten-hood friends? His first companions were a sneaky dachshund and a stocky brown lab with a learning disability. Both of these companions had a somewhat dubious influence on the young kitten - from the dachshund he learned the art of con, while the lab taught him how to play dumb and make loud noises to get attention; for a young kitten, these new skills must have opened a whole new world of possibilities and experiences. Imagine the first time Mani successfully conned me into giving him an extra helping of tuna fish – what a rush of adrenaline that must have been! Rather than existing on the sole attribute of kitten charm, Mani now had a whole range of tools. What power!

*Cat’s name changed to protect his identity and to emphasize his weight problem, the name “Chancho” of Spanish origin, meaning “little piggy” or “little fatty”.