Jack the Cat is a Thief

It's an understatement to say my wife and I are cat lovers. Indeed, we are the proud “parents” of five previously-homeless felines. We have learned that, just like human beings, each furry kid has its own distinct personality. Our oldest cat, Kelly, enjoys snuggling with a human whenever they nap or go to bed. Annie is grumpy but absolutely loves Mom (and only Mom.) Zorro likes to sleep in the cat carrier! Our baby, Little Zorro, has never met a stranger. Jack, our “tuxedo” cat, loves nothing more than stealing his Mom's slippers. He seems to take great joy in seeing how long it takes her to find the missing objects.

When our senior cat died, we decided to give another orphan a home. Jack had been rescued from the streets of a northern Ohio town.  His front claws had been removed, and he had been neutered, so at one time he must have belonged to someone. Perhaps he escaped from his home, or, much worse, perhaps his humans tired of their cat and therefore dumped

him. Several times I've asked Jack about this, but he refuses to talk about it.

After paying various fees, we attempted to put Jack into a carrier, but it would have been easier to break into Fort Knox. Evidently, Jack thought we were going to dump him in a cornfield or turn him into a roast. He thrashed around in his portable prison during the long trip to his new home.

Upon our arrival, we unzipped the carrier; Jack took off like a bat out of you-know-where. He dashed under a bed, with our other cats in pursuit. Our other boys were simply wondering from where this stranger had come, but our crabby female, Annie, reached a paw under the bed and commenced to smack the poor guy around.

Jack stayed under the bed for two days. We had to bring him food, water, and a litter box. Occasionally, I'd reach under the bed to pet him while telling him about his new home. At least he didn't hiss at me.

On day three, Jack garnered enough courage to leave the relative safety of the bed to explore his new domain. For the most part, the male cats ignored him, but Annie hissed at him several times and, on a few occasions, attempted to rearrange his face.

Soon, Jack found a cat bed in the family room shaped like a tent. The other cats had occasionally used it, but the newcomer claimed it for his own. That's where he sleeps, and that's where he plans his game of stealing Mom's slippers. His favorite ones are blue, but now Mom puts them in the closet because you-know-who leaves teeth marks in them as he carries them to various hiding places.

She does, however, leave out her black slippers, so they are fair game. Jack operates from a sense of fairness; he only takes one slipper. He feels that leaving one for Mom is more than fair.

Unlike our senior cat, Jack is a “mommy's boy.” He tolerates me but absolutely loves her. When she arrives home, it is usually Jack who greets her first. He will sit on Mom's lap, but prefers I do no more than pet him.

Evidently, he misses Mom when she is away. I've watched in fascination while he scratches his chin on a slipper before sticking his head inside it to get a good whiff of her scent. Next, he picks the slipper up in his mouth and hides it! Then he goes to his tent to await Mom's arrival.

This has become a game for Jack. He likes to watch as Mom searches from one room to another. The longer it takes her to find the prize, the happier he seems to be.

 I'm being left out of the action. He never swipes my shoes. I even smelled them to make certain they weren't too gross. I didn't faint, so they must be okay.

I just have to accept the fact that Jack is indeed a “Mommy's boy.” But the good news is this: He seems perfectly happy and relaxed in his new forever home. Now, if only his crabby sister would stop threatening to rearrange his face.