Quietness

Though Marla was getting loud in her old age, howling at strange hours, sometimes she could be quiet enough and just seemingly show up out of nowhere, much like the X-Men's Lockheed, only without the "bamf!" and smell of sulfur.

I always said that the cats were using closets as "tellerportation" chambers or elevators where they could go from one room to another.

But it's been too quiet the last two nights. Jenn keeps expecting Marla to greet her at the door, as do I. No more watching TV with Marla sitting on the floor next to the coffee table, just staring at me, or stretching out or putting two paws on the couch (which is how she got the nickname Pop Tart.)

Jenn and I were having dinner last night and she started to cry. "This is the perfect size of a chicken piece," she said. "I don't have anybody to share my chicken with anymore."

Maybe I should have enclosed a Chinese restaurant menu for Marla - although it would have made for a long delivery. Marla loved boneless spare ribs (and duck, although she hadn't had it for a long while) ... OK, almost any people food. Even if she didn't eat it Marla thought it rude if you didn't offer it to her.

Among the culinary exploits:

I was eating sour cream and onion potato chips at my first apartment and Marla was on the floor looking up at me. "What, you want to try some?" I offered, and to my surprise, she did eat the chip and asked for more.

She swiped her paw in a Doritos bag, licked it, and proceeded to lick her chops for a few minutes afterward. I think Marla learned her lesson.

I had to go away for a weekend once, and left Marla free reign of the apartment, rather than have her stay in my room. I left extra food out, but to my surprise when I came back, Marla made her own dinner. She hopped on the counter, knocked down a box of cat treats, took in in the bedroom, chewed a hole in it, and ate all the treats. (She did the same thing with some cat treats in a candy cane-shaped Christmas present that also held cat toys for her.)

Strangely, Marla liked the breading of chicken nuggets but didn't want the chicken. Tried telling her, "Marla, it's bird!" Nope.

But the best food story that I recall was when I was having spaghetti and eating it in the bedroom (I had a very small first apartment.) Marla hopped on the bed, walked onto the plate, which I had put down) and started licking at it!

I brushed her off the bed, she did a somersault and landed on the floor, licking her chops. It was as if she was saying, "Mmmmmm, good. Worth getting knocked off the bed."

That led to another Marlaism. That whenever she got caught with food she wasn't supposed to, Marla would look up and say, "Heh heh heh. Uhhhh.... it was good!," followed by her paw to the head and a "No no no no! Bad Marla, bad Marla, not supposed to say that, supposed to apologize!"