Demise Of A Gift

Yesterday was Mummy’s birthday, and, in celebration, some very thoughtful soul brought her an intriguing-looking red bag with neat little raffia handles and brightly colored tissue paper sticking out at the top.

Did I ever mention I love tissue paper?

It is akin to the tidy rolls of stuff in the bathroom [from which I am permanently banned], only it is bigger and easier to tote through the house.

It shreds nicely, too.

About this red bag…

On Mummy’s return home, she placed the RB in plain view (translate: A cat could not miss it) on the kitchen counter then set about doing her afternoon chores. Naturally, we assumed there was more to this bag than meets the eye; however, we preferred not to meet Mummy’s eye so openly avoided the bag and its mystery contents, rightly considering it something to be dealt with at a later, more discreet time.

The time came!

Mummy completed her chores, fed us all a nice luncheon of tuna pate with salmon-filled crunchies on the side. Deeelish! *SMACK* Then she settled in at her desk and began writing. I was bored, and so was Mosby, Morgan, Princess, Tippy, Nobbie, and Poppet (Aspen had better things to do, and Nutmeg is permanently bored so finds no excitement in intrigue). We had, after all, been snoozing all morning and were ready for adventure. And a brightly colored bag-and-tissue-and-mystery contents arrangement does not come along every day. Soooo…

I led the pack, deftly alighting on the marble tiles, followed by the rest of the posse. Sidling up to that seemingly docile package, I took a nibble at the tissue to see if would give any trouble but it appeared as innocuous as the bag, and what is more, it slid out of said bag with buttery ease. I yanked the first layer of striped paper out and tossed it over the counter’s edge, creating an aerial show for my spectators who were now moving in to view the interior of the parcel.

Stand back, I warned the audience.

I am going in!

So in I dove, nose first, right through the tightly twisted handle on the near side. A quick glance revealed nothing more than a small box with a pretty picture of some shiny object or other on it, not at all interesting to me.

Nothing in here, I shouted, and up my head came, fully intending to move along to the next venture of the day.

Only my head was on the other side of that blighted handle!

In an instant, I was all legs, scrambling to be free of my newfound prison. I might have known - Mummy had set another trap! This was no gift but merely a ploy to catch innocent kittens that were performing their rightful duty as Inspectors General, ridding the home of any [potentially] unwanted gift items.

This, however, did not alter the fact that I was currently imbroglioed with the Dratted Bag. I did not know what to do or which way to turn, so I tried every direction imaginable, finally making a mad dash off the counter and across the kitchen floor. Then I simply ran, bumping and crashing into everything – I was running blindly, seeing only red, finally alighting beneath the bed. I remained huddled there, gasping and wheezing, listening for the inevitable “What the blazes was all that?”

Mummy could but follow the trail from the origin of sound. She tracked torn bits of tissue paper, a card, the OTHER handle (naturally not the one I was entangled with), the small box that, on reflection of the sound it made when tumbling out of the bag must, indeed, contain something of a breakable nature, and finally, the red sack with me, Augustus The Humble, all wrapped up inside.

She laughed (surprise!). Hmmph.

The she dragged me and my sack out from beneath the bed, unwrapped me and set me free. I started to run but thought better of it. After all, she did rescue me, and it IS her birthday. So I gave her a kiss on the nose. She forgave me for getting into her birthday gift, saying that she had me and that was enough.

Whew! That was a close one.

I have decided, moving forward, to limit my inspection of all packages mysterious to those of a handle-less nature. Experience does bring wisdom!