(Mystery Guest Author this week)

I didn’t need any coaxing. I meowed quick goodbyes to mom and my siblings and with one hop I dropped into the box. Within moments the lid was secured and I was in transit…again…peering out the portholes of my carrier headed for home. For good, I hoped.

I hadn’t even passed through the front door when the kids opened my carrier and wanted to play with me!

“Heaven,” I was thinking. I started my floor show again, practically bouncing off walls, doing things kittens do. We get away with so much because, well, we are cute.

But it’s not easy putting on three or four shows a day. I slept hard in between each performance. Usually I just crashed wherever I did my last show. This last time it was on the couch. Bad choice. That was right where the orange cat liked to sleep. So I woke up to that big cat staring down at me.

“Don’t get comfortable, kid. That’s my space,” he said. I, being a kitten, reached up and smacked him across the paw with my snout. Nothing serious, it’s what kittens do, right? He arched his back.

“Here we go again,” he growled. He moved in sideways and tackled me with all four paws and we rolled off the couch onto the floor. He thumped me, and I walloped him back. It was my fifth show of the day, but this was the most fun! I started laughing as I tumbled about the floor with the big cat pouncing on me.

“What’s so funny?” he paused, his right paw in the air ready to strike.

I backed up and looked him in the eye. “You are fighting like my sister! You aren’t really hurting me!” With that, I exposed him. He was a softie at heart. In fact, I think he was looking for another cat to play with all along. Sometimes humans overlook the obvious. This guy needed a buddy.

“So, you’ll be living here now,” he mewed my way. “What’s your name?”

“Don’t have one,” I kitten mumbled. “Yet.”

“Mmmm. Well, these are pretty creative humans. I had about four before they settled on Mars. They think I’m from another planet. Here’s a tip for ya, just keep out of the Big Owner’s way and you’ll be fine.”

I leaned over towards Mars and took my kitten paw and batted him on the side of the head. No claws, just fun. He slowly stood on all fours, angled towards me and, with that, we were rolling on the floor again – two cats playing like old friends. I’d break free of his grip and run through the house with him chasing me. He’d turn to run away and I chased him back. This went on for hours, which turned into days. All the while the humans watched in amazement.

“Remarkable,” said the Big Owner to his wife one day. “I’ve never seen two cats that played so hard, and so well together. They’re like … brothers.” Ya, we were. It was great.

“I can’t keep up with you!” Mars finally threw up his paws after two days of wrestling.

“That’s okay,” I purred loudly. “I have enough energy for the both of us and more.”

When Mars rested, I went looking for trouble. It usually came in the form of getting into places I shouldn’t be. I had a nose for everything, everywhere, anytime. Kitchen counter? I’d be there. Dinner table? I’d be there. Knocking things off the bathroom counter at 3am? No problem. I almost fell into the washing machine while the Big Owner was doing laundry. I *did* get myself locked IN THE REFRIDGERATOR for five minutes when I curiously explored its shelves. The Mrs. had no clue I had climbed in and luckily heard my faint wails while passing. A tragedy was avoided. I can’t tell you how many expeditions I had through kitchen cupboards where doors were closed behind me, or dresser drawers rolled shut with me still inside doing a survey. One time I excavated the laundry pile and almost got tossed into the machine with the clothes. My journeys took me to every corner of the house, some parts never before seen by human eyes.

“This cat sticks his nose into everything!” The Big Owner was easily annoyed as I crawled a 2-inch wide path across the top of his flat screen TV.

“He’s like Indiana Jones,” giggled the 12-year-old boy. “He’s always on an adventure!”

Everyone laughed out loud. “Yes, he is,” said the Mrs. as she next plucked me from my exploration of the dryer before she hit the ‘on’ switch. “His crusades never end.”

“That’s it!” shouted the young boy, suddenly sitting straight up.

“That’s what?” the family turned to him, clearly the child had something on his mind.

“That’s his name! Indiana Jones! We’ll call him Indy because he’s always on an adventure getting into trouble!”

A momentary pause, then everybody broke into laughter. But it wasn’t a funny laughter, it was gleeful. One by one they all agreed right there on the spot that the young lad had come up with a perfect name for me. Indiana Jones…or Indy, for short. Because I’m…uh, er, trouble.

Whoaa, I thought to myself. So that’s how it happens. No, it can’t be that simple. I turned to Mars. “It’s that simple?” I asked. He nodded yes in response. His was even a nod of approval.

Okay. That’s that. Indy it is. Alright, I can live with that. However, I had one question. As everyone around me was gleefully patting each other on the back that they had come up with the perfect name for me, I wanted to know just one more thing.

“Who’s Indiana Jones?” I asked.

Copyright 2008, Mark Mason, All Rights Reserved

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