Cats (like children) can't be spoiled too much

My wife, who is allergic to cats, dotes on Missy Kitty. I say she spoils the animal.

Father Howard Foland, a friend for many years and many years ago, disliked being told his rotund dog was "spoiled."

"He is not spoiled," the good father -- who was a bit on the roly-poly side himself -- would say with a sniff of disdain. "He's accommodated."

We've seen plenty of "accommodated" pets -- and children -- over the years. I would suggest that some may have been over-accommodated. My wife insists she does not spoil Missy Kitty. She merely gives in to the cat's superior intellect.

Missy Kitty, like her predecessors Miss Kitty I and Miss Kitty II, is not a big fan of the cat toys we buy for her. She would much rather amuse herself by catching salamanders that have taken up residence in the pile-of-rocks fountain on our patio, or climbing the low-hanging branches of the giant magnolia.

But Missy Kitty does have one soft spot in her I-won't-pay-attention-to-any-toy-you-buy armor: She goes nuts over catnip.

Which explains why she currently is the proud caretaker of three made-in-China mice filled with catnip. These mice (leave it to the clever Chinese) have gizmos that make them squeak when they are tossed around.

There are three of the toy mice, because when Missy Kitty loses interest in one and we buy another, she plays with both the old one and the new one. Now she has two old ones and a rather new one.

Here's the game Missy Kitty and my wife play:

As long as the toy mice are in plain view, Missy Kitty shows little interest. But if she can't see them in our family room, she knows my wife has hidden them, usually under the entertainment center. My wife pokes the mice into the darkness under the armoire that holds all of our TV stuff. When Missy Kitty comes into the room, she performs a routine inspection in search of the mice. She scrunches down and reaches under the entertainment center until she snags all three mice.

Occasionally, my mischievous wife puts one of the mice somewhere else in the room. This causes considerable consternation on the part of Missy Kitty.

It should be obvious by now that Missy Kitty, smart thing that she is, can count. At least to three. She becomes more and more agitated until all three mice are accounted for. Then she hops into her wicker chair and passes out, either from exertion, catnip overdose, or both.

All cats, I think, exhibit superior intellect. Other cats we've had responded to hand signals as well as voice commands. Missy Kitty, however, may be the smartest of all. She pays absolutely no attention to anything resembling a "pet trick." Why put yourself out? The smartest cat is the one that does the least.

Except for catnip-stuffed toy mice. For them, Missy Kitty knows every cute cat jump, roll and bounce. She uses them all to find all three of her toys.

And entertain those of us who are, obviously, easily amused.

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.