Chick-a-boom

I sing to my cats.

I don’t want to. I feel pressured. They follow me around like they expect something. I give them food. They sniff it and turn away, a definite, non-verbal, “No, that’s not what I want.”

They do like being petted. But if I’m petting one, the others become petty and jealous. They’re like, “Hey, why is he getting petted? Pet me.”

And I tire of petting the cats. It’s hard work stroking bellies and backs, and scratching chins and ears. The cats never want it to end, grabbing my hand if I try to pull away. It’s also hairy work. Or furry work, I guess. I suppose there is a difference between fur and hair.

So, I have a repertoire of songs I sing to them. My current favorite is “I Can’t Get Next to You,” by the Temptations. If you know the lyrics, then let me tell you, I change some verses to make it more relevant to the cats. Like, I sing, “I can change the litter box, just by waving my hands.” I also substitute “cat” for “girl.” So, I sing, “Cat, you’re blowing my mind. Cause I can’t get, next to you.”

One thing I always sing as I hear it in the song is “Chick-a-boom, chick-a-boom. Chick-a-boom, boom, boom.” And I dance to that part.

The cats are leery about it. They watch me with an expression that asks, “What’s wrong with this fool?” Sometimes, they raise a paw in warning. (I call that a pawarning.) They say, “Watch it. Stay back. I have claws, and I’m not afraid to use them.” I can tell you that this statements is true. They’re firm disciplinarians with their claws.

The singing amuses me. The cats don’t find this as amusing as me. Neither does my wife. She says, with dour expressions and deep sighs, “Not this, again.”

Now, since I can’t change the litter box just by waving my hands, I have go do it manually. Because, even though these felines are indoor and outdoor critters, they’re civilized. They only ‘do their business’ inside.

Chick-a-boom, chick-a-boom.