Missy Kitty's toys and the salamander

Missy Kitty says "Hey."

Our furry friend -- often called The Little Dictator by those who know her best -- is both predictable and unpredictable.

On the one hand, cats love routine. Missy Kitty knows when 5 p.m. rolls around. That's when she gets food in her dish in the garage. She knows when daylight-savings time goes into effect. It takes her a few days to adjust. Then heaven forbid if you miss that 5 o'clock feeding.

And there's Missy Kitty's nap time. During these hours -- cats sleep most of any given day -- it's best to keep loud noises to a minimum, unless you want irreplaceable keepsakes shredded to bits.

Even with her locked-in routine and her curious habits, Missy Kitty continues to surprise.

For example, there are her cat toys.

We have, from time to time, bought toys. Most of them rely on catnip to hook gullible cats. Most of these toys are of no interest to Missy Kitty. Oh, sure, she'll take a hit of catnip for a few days in a row, and then she has had enough.

My wife has found a way to prolong a toy's lure. She hides the catnip mouse, for example, somewhere in the family room. Without prompting, Missy Kitty goes on a hunt for the mouse, mostly under things. She always manages to find the mouse.

Or the marble. Who knew one glass marble could hold a cat's attention for so long? That also is hidden by my wife, and if the cat loses interest in playing hide-and-seek with the catnip mouse, she starts poking around for marble. When found, the marble is sent rattling across the floor only to be chased down by hers truly.

Until she doesn't want to play anymore. That could be after 10 minutes or 10 seconds. Who knows why a marble can be seriously interesting some days and hardly worth a yawn on others?

Missy Kitty's predecessor, Miss Kitty, was known to shun all toys intended for cats. She never played with a single one of them. Never. The joy of Miss Kitty's life was to find a clod of dirt and roll it onto the patio, where she would play for long stretches while my wife and I guiltily wondered how we had gone so wrong in the cat toy department.

This spring, Missy Kitty has found a new playmate.

(Disclaimer to readers: There are some bits that could roil your Cheerios. You have been warned.)

We first noticed Missy Kitty chasing what appeared to be a phantom something-or-other around and under the hedge along one side of our brick courtyard.

Upon close inspection, we discovered the new playmate isn't a figment of the cat's imagination -- or ours.

It is a salamander.

The salamander, which to my way of thinking is just four gimpy legs short of a snake, seems to like playing with the cat. And vice versa.

They run back and forth and all around the hedge. When the salamander tires out, it poses as dead as a doornail on the bricks while Missy Kitty lies nearby cleaning her paws.

Several times I thought the salamander had gone to its Great Reward. But attempts to sweep it into a dustpan in preparations for a proper burial have led to a quick scurry into the dense ivy beds nearby.

And then the whole things repeats the next day.

This cat-salamander playtime has been going on for a couple of weeks now. My wife has the same reaction every time she sees the salamander on the courtyard. It is not a pleasant reaction.

I have considered putting the salamander out of its misery. Knowing cats, I'm sure this affair is not going to have a happy ending.

But as much as I hate the idea of inadvertently stepping on a played-out salamander, I don't want to imagine what happens when a salamander is smacked with a heavy Amish broom.

So, for now it's the Missy Kitty and Sally Show, weird as it is.

Of course, I offer the usual explanation: Missy Kitty is a cat. Period.

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.