I Felt So Used
One of my weekly chores around the house is doing the Laundry. The Laundry must be done and somebody has to do it, and…
I AM SOMEBODY!
Doing the Laundry is not all that difficult. If I was Color Blind, Illiterate, and entirely Anti-Social it would be much harder to do. It would be horribly more taxing if I had to lug everything down to the banks of the Wabash River and beat our clothing on a flat rock. Luckily, I don’t have to that, but I’m still looking for a way out of this weekly chore.
I am trying to train the cat to do the Laundry.
Don’t laugh! “Groucho” is a very intelligent cat. I’ve seen him open the kitchen cupboard doors all by himself. He has figured out that the Remote does indeed control the TV. I’ve watched him change channels. He likes the “Animal Planet” network. He does not like any of the political channels and I can’t blame him. It must all sound like “Duck Dynasty” on Acid to him.
Sometimes I see Groucho looking at me, staring for minutes at a time. There is just something in his gaze that says, “If I had an opposable thumb you’d be gone.”
Despite his sometimes unsettling attitude and behavior I thought that he would be up to the task of doing the Laundry under minimal supervision.
I have taken Groucho to the laudromat several times. He seemed to enjoy the outings. While there I ran over the basics of doing the Laundry with him: Sorting – dark and light colors, Differing Fabrics, Hot or Cold, and so on. He appeared to be paying attention as I showed him how to operate the machines. Sometimes humans have trouble with that part. So I went slow and repeated myself when he had a questioning look on his face.
It all seemed to be going smoothly. I was impressed and hopeful that my experiment with Groucho might pay off.
I was wrong. I was being set up. I would have had better luck if I had tried to teach him how to pick pockets.
After four weeks of training it was time for Groucho to spread his metaphorical wings and fly. I helped to lift the heavy Laundry baskets up to the top of the machines. The cat put the detergent into the washers all by himself and my hopes soared. Then it came time for him to drop the Quarters into the slots. This was where the train derailed.
I had the coins in a small plastic baggie. I set them down in front of Groucho and stepped back to give him some elbow room.
Instead of dropping a coin into each slot the cat grabbed the whole bag with his teeth and bolted for the door. I was shocked. I tried to catch him, but before I even got started he was halfway across the street heading for the Kroger’s Supermarket.
I later learned that inside the Kroger’s he had dragged three pouches of tuna up to the checkout aisles. A clerk took the proper number of Quarters out of my baggie, put in his change, and watched as he left the store dragging a bag holding the tuna.
Two days later Groucho showed up on our doorstep. He looked like he had been on a two day bender. His fur was matted, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was missing a tooth, but he had brought back my small plastic coin bag. It was empty.
My wife let him in. As he walked past me he looked up and gave a short burst of “Meows” that I have no doubt would translate into, “Bro, you shoulda been there.”