Jasper

 By Maryanna Gabriel


Living in the country, I have wondered about getting a dog. Instead, I have a cat who visits named Jasper, who acts like one. He sleeps on the doormat watching me come and go, eyeing my every move. It's most interesting for him because the fridge is right by the door. His behaviour is hard to understand because he is not mine. He lives across the way. Yet he is always here. 

I'm trying to teach him manners, and just when I think I've made headway, we are two steps back. He is a rescue cat, you see. Lately he's taken to rushing the door. His entire mission is to enter these hallowed halls. He's so smart he has also learned how to open it with a gentle rocking motion. Moreover, there is a screen installed which he likes to puts his claws into so I have to really watch him. The door was not only expensive, carpenters are not cheap. 

This led to an incident. While I was balancing a tray of polyurethane...  across hand-knotted carpets in order to get to a deck, he rushed the door. And was in. I knew he was headed for the fresh paint on the deck opposite. In mind's eye, I was either going to spill the polyurethane trying to stop him or he was going to run onto the deck and reenter the house with deck coating encasing his little furry feet. That left one resort. Boy, did I yell. I think they must have heard me clear to Vancouver Island. He got the message alright.

He disappeared for a couple of days. I could tell he thought I had flipped my biscuit. Which was the truth. I had. Don't worry, though. He's back. On the doormat. Watching me.