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A Story for Sebastian: Pookie Up The Wall
For some reason Sebastian loves stories about my family when I was a little boy. And I love to tell them to him...even after he demands a hundred repetitions. :D
I'm just going to write this the way I told it to him this morning in the car, twice. Nothing fancy.
A long, long time ago, when I was a little boy (but still older than you are now), I was playing in my bedroom with my little brother, Dan.
I looked out the little window, down into the garden, and who did I see? It was Pookie, our kitty! I opened the window and called Dan over. We both called Pookie and waved to him.
At first he didn't know where we were. He looked left, right, backwards and forwards. Then he looked up and saw us looking down at him, and he was so surprised that his mouth dropped open.
Dan and I laughed and laughed. Then we closed the window and went back to playing.
A few minutes later we heard something: "Meow, meow!"
Where was the sound coming from? We looked under the bed. We looked under the other bed. We looked inside the closet, and under the bureau. We looked out in the hall, and in the bathroom, and down the stairs.
And then I went over to the window and looked out...and there, hanging onto the wall, was Pookie! He had climbed all the way up to the second-floor window with his giant paws; he had two extra toes and claws on each paw, and that's how he did it.
He mewed and mewed, so I carefully opened the window, reached out, and grabbed him. I pulled him into the house, and Dan and I put him on the bed and patted him. He was purring louder than he ever had in his life.
After a few minutes Pookie jumped off the bed and ran out of the room. Dan and I went back to playing (what were we playing? I don't remember.)
And ten minutes later we heard something: "Meow! Meow!"
It was Pookie - he had run all the way down to the basement, up the little stairs that Grandpa had built for him, out the little door in the cellar window, out into the garden, and climbed all the way up the house again - more than twenty feet up a straight wall!
We brought him in again and patted him, and he purred like crazy.
And after that, every so often, we would look out that window when Pookie was outside...and if he was in the garden, he would climb up the house for us, and purr.
I'm just going to write this the way I told it to him this morning in the car, twice. Nothing fancy.
A long, long time ago, when I was a little boy (but still older than you are now), I was playing in my bedroom with my little brother, Dan.
I looked out the little window, down into the garden, and who did I see? It was Pookie, our kitty! I opened the window and called Dan over. We both called Pookie and waved to him.
At first he didn't know where we were. He looked left, right, backwards and forwards. Then he looked up and saw us looking down at him, and he was so surprised that his mouth dropped open.
Dan and I laughed and laughed. Then we closed the window and went back to playing.
A few minutes later we heard something: "Meow, meow!"
Where was the sound coming from? We looked under the bed. We looked under the other bed. We looked inside the closet, and under the bureau. We looked out in the hall, and in the bathroom, and down the stairs.
And then I went over to the window and looked out...and there, hanging onto the wall, was Pookie! He had climbed all the way up to the second-floor window with his giant paws; he had two extra toes and claws on each paw, and that's how he did it.
He mewed and mewed, so I carefully opened the window, reached out, and grabbed him. I pulled him into the house, and Dan and I put him on the bed and patted him. He was purring louder than he ever had in his life.
After a few minutes Pookie jumped off the bed and ran out of the room. Dan and I went back to playing (what were we playing? I don't remember.)
And ten minutes later we heard something: "Meow! Meow!"
It was Pookie - he had run all the way down to the basement, up the little stairs that Grandpa had built for him, out the little door in the cellar window, out into the garden, and climbed all the way up the house again - more than twenty feet up a straight wall!
We brought him in again and patted him, and he purred like crazy.
And after that, every so often, we would look out that window when Pookie was outside...and if he was in the garden, he would climb up the house for us, and purr.
Polydactyl
But the actual climber was Bonzo, Pookie's predecessor. The two cats were quite similar in many ways - both were remarkably cheerful striped orange-marmalade males - but Pookie was not polydactyl (http://www.messybeast.com/poly-cats.html).
Bonzo, on the other hand, was polydactyl with a vengeance. It was a very odd feeling to be grabbed by him, because he really could clutch things with his seven toes (he was of the "thumb" variety, which means he just about had an opposable grip).