The Sheepcats

They begin ever so politely, as cats begin everything, without making a point of it. Late at night, each sits in whatever spot she presently occupies and commences to stare at me. They have never sat in a united row to stare at me in concert, yet I know they are in rare, silent collusion.

Soon the youngest will rise and stretch a paw up the arm of the couch toward me with a tinkley little "Nging". But if I try to pet her, she retreats and takes up her stare position again.

The middle girl will jump up next to me on the couch, give me a deep, silent look that does not invite loving, and jump down to walk into the hall toward the bedroom, where she reposes elegantly to stare at me some more.

The oldest grows bored with sitting and staring - at the age of 14 she has used a substantial number of her years trying to make me do what she says. So she will just plump .. er, ... plop her full-figured self on top of my foot and close her eyes in weariness at what she has to go through.

By the time I get up, my youngest is beside herself from the strain and goes scampering ahead of me - she hopes - into the bedroom, screeching to a stop at the bed. If I haven't followed her, she is so obviously disappointed that I always do follow, , even if I have to turn right around and go to the kitchen. That gets everybody into the kitchen, in various stages of impatience.

I am aware of all three reactions at once: (1) "No, no, no! Wrong room!", running in circles for emphasis. (2) "oh, as long as you're here, you might as well let me out on the porch once more." and (3) "Did you come in here to fill up my kibble dish? Why not?" But then, unless I proceed to the utility room to scoop their litter boxes, which they all recognize as activity of the highest level of importance and therefore allowed at any time, they start trying to herd me to bed.

Yes, herd. Cat at my left foot, cat at my right. Cat behind, no, in front - they are very proficient at herding me. It just struck me like a bolt of lightning that that's what they have been doing all this time, and I couldn't begin to guess how long it's been going on. I have no idea when the two older girls taught the youngest to herd with them. That's how good they are at it. I have a team of sheepcats that work in perfect unison to herd me to bed at night when they decide I've stayed up late enough.

Baaaa.

by Sharon Goodman, 1996