A Bishop Cat

Twenge, whose name came from the local attorney office of “Twenge and Twombley”. Yes, Twenge had a brother named Twombley, but Twenge didn’t like sharing his box with him.

"Every cat wants to be a Bishop cat."

At least, this is the rumor. Through the years, there have been a variety of feline friends - Purf and Tulee. Farnzworth and Marci. Journey, Schroeder, Feather, and Frack. The matched set of Twenge (pictured) and Twombley. Crayola. Charlie. Daisy.

So many friends.

And, back in the day, before it became an enclosed dining room, one of the favorite hang-out spots for the cats at Yard Farm was the screened-in porch, in which a kitty could lie on the cool concrete in the summer, or rest in the sunshine in the winter. It was home to the food bowls, making it a little piece of cat heaven on earth.

Exit and entry was through a propped open door, until my dad decided to build a cat exit. He carved a cat-sized hole in the screen about 4 feet off the ground, framed it, and added a convenient shelf which also served as a sleeping spot. From here, cats could come and go and we didn't have to prop the door open for them (and for other critters that might want a chance at the food bowl).

It truly was the perfect place to avoid ambush by mockingbirds.

Until one day, it began to rain.

It was a rain similar to what we had the other day - an all morning line of thunderstorms bringing buckets of precipitation in true Lowcountry fashion.

My dad, out in his woodworking shop, wanted to come into the house for lunch. Of course he didn't have an umbrella. So he improvised with some good old Frogmore Engineering and created a raincoat out of a large garbage bag. He cut holes for his arms and his head, added another bag as a rain hat, and out he went into the deluge.

Dodging the growing mud puddles and trying not to drown, he ran across the yard and through the carport to the screened in porch, where three cats lazily snoozed.

(This is where it gets good.)

Imagine their horror when they were rudely awakened from their blissful naps by a giant….THING…..running onto the porch, banging through the door, and making the most gosh-awful noise (i.e. the rattling of the plastic garbage bags).

They leapt up and, in the finest display of sudden and complete terror that this breed of animal is known for, began racing for the cat exit, which they could not find because they were just running around in circles. Round and round and round the porch they went.

It’s interesting to me that cats could be the perfect example of entropy, except that this was not a gradual decline into disorder. This was harmony shot out of a cannon.

Of course, this was just too much fun for my dad, so he decided to add to the chaos by rattling the garbage bag to make even more noise than he was already making.

It was Pet Pandemonium. A Feline Free-For-All.

It seemed, after what was a very short period of time, but probably felt like an eternity to our kitty friends, that the location of egress occurred to the cats at once, and they all rocketed for it and tried to get through at the same time.

There was nothing to be seen but a cacophony (catcophony?) of legs and tails and escalating anarchy until, finally, the critical mass of three cats exploded out the exit designed for one cat, and scattered up the tree and around the corner and through the yard, leaving my dad standing alone in his garbage bag raincoat, feeling pretty energized by the whole thing.

And thus we see that the advice, “When in danger, when in doubt, run in circles, scream and shout” really isn’t as helpful as one might think. Better to always, always have an exit plan.