Franklin: Watching Winston Get Wired

Winston, Contented After a Heavy Meal
(of God-Knows-What!)

I hate to rat out my brother, but it needs to be said, Winston is huge on getting wired. More accurately, he likes eating wires.

Mom discovered this when he had a little “stomach rebound” in the den and chucked up part of a twisty-tie. She looked in horror at the leavings and asked him what he thought he was doing, ingesting a piece of wire and plastic. I noticed Winston stepped into our Patented IgnoreMode™ demeanor, casually licking a paw, looking at the ceiling, and pretending he doesn’t understand English.

Later that night, Mom apparently heard some suspicious activities under her bed. I figured Win was just playing with Duckie, Moose, or another of our toys. But after a stern “Stop that racket!” – it being 2:00 AM or later – she decided to turn on the lights and see what he really was up to. I popped off my position atop her feet to check it out, too.

There, on the floor beneath the bed, Mom found plentiful evidence of Winston’s latest culinary efforts in the form of about a dozen nipped, snipped, and nibbled bits of insulated wire. I guess that crazy cat just can’t stay away from the white wire connected to the clock radio!

As she scrambled around under the bed picking up the pieces, my brother got the usual firm lecture, including plenty of that “What were you thinking?” and “This is baaaad kitty behavior!” stuff. I was relieved that I was (uncustomarily) innocent as she completely removed the wire from the radio in disgust, then shook her finger at Win and warned him about continued naughtiness.

No matter. He enlisted me in helping him tomorrow, as he undertakes a mealtime foray in the direction of the stereo. I guess his Menu du jour is a two-course meal!

Win to Frank:
"You keep watch, I'm on it!"

Winston: Career Planning

Lately I’ve been thinking: A cat needs a profession. Sure it’s all fine and well to be the official bed warmer, the greeter kitty who welcomes folks to the home, or even the official desk rearranger, but it’s probably time for us to settle on a career.

So I’ve been experimenting with various open positions:

Mouser Kitty: I am proud to say that since my brother and I joined this household, not a single mouse, rat, or other vermin has taken up residence within its walls. No matter that we’ve never had one even think about coming near the place, I’m confident our reputation for sharp teeth and raking claws has kept them at bay.

Winston: Early Hunting Practice

Janitor Kitty: When there’s vacuuming to be done, I cruise the area and point out any pine needles or bits of dust that need attention by flopping upon them.

Laundry Kitty: I am quite sure the clean laundry is all the better for my sleeping on the folded clothes. Kitty fur is a fashion statement, no?

Plumber Kitty: I pointed out a small toilet leak the other day, thereby saving the house from flooding. Strangely, my humans showed slight displeasure in this service, perhaps because I pointed out the problem by drinking the water pooled at its base? (Note to self: That blue bowl stuff is nasty!)

Carpenter Kitty: Open the tool drawer, I’m there! Hammering a nail, putting in a ceiling hook, fixing a broken lock – if it takes tools, I’m your buddy.

Audio Kitty

Audio Kitty: Need help with setting up your home entertainment system? I'm your kit.

Techno Kitty: Of all the jobs that I’m considering, working on computers draws me the most. Who else sacrifices half his whiskers to learning about cooling fans? Who else is adept at adjusting template settings in Word, realigning power cords, and hiding that plastic device laughingly called a “mouse?” International Institute of Kitnology, here I come!

Oh, by the way, I discussed potential jobs with my brother. He told me the following:

Franklin’s Career Aspirations: Male Model.

Frankie Strikes a Pose