BARSTOW, Calif. — All cats have nine lives.
But Corky the cat has a sixth sense.
He knows when it’s time for company to go home.
This astute kitty lives in Barstow, Calif., where he has his own private bedroom.
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That is, until my husband, Bill, and I showed up and plopped ourselves down on the queen-size feathery-soft bed where Corky likes to sleep — by himself.
To say this fat cat had a few bent whiskers about sharing its room is an understatement. The first night, he refused to come inside and instead worried his owners sick.
“Corky stayed out all night,” my friend, Marsha, lamented, dark circles beneath her eyes. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him!”
She shouldn’t have been surprised. Cat owners know perfectly well that those balls of fur have a way of making pet parents pay for misdeeds. And as the feline trotted down the hall within earshot, I could have sworn I saw him smile.
Night 2 wasn’t much better.
After checking to see if “his” room was still occupied (and it was!) Corky high-tailed it outside. There he sat patiently in the darkness next to Marsha and Steve’s sliding glass door. Then, once the cat was sure deep snores were coming from their bedroom, he began to howl and tap his paw on the glass.
They ignored him. He pounded and meowed louder.
Bleary-eyed, Marsha arrived in the kitchen the following morning, Corky on her heels. Feline mission accomplished.
On the third evening, Corky breezed past “his” bedroom. The company was STILL occupying his territory.
This called for another strategy.
This morning I awoke, my body cramped from sleeping in a small corner of the bed, Bill stretched diagonally across the mattress. My eyes focused on a white and brown mound at the foot of the bed as I straightened my aching legs.
Corky’s nose twitched, and his gaze met mine without flinching.
I could see that after thee days of being company, we were no longer the “cat’s meow.”