An Observation of Utmost Triviality

   Not long ago, I discovered what happens when tape is applied to the bottom of a cat's foot. The effect varies from cat to cat, and varies in individuals depending on a number of factors I've yet to explore, but, in general, it is always amusing and always involves the shaking of a foot. Merlin, for example, will shake the afflicted foot vigorously for a few moments before screwing my amusement over by ripping the tape off with his teeth. This is amusing enough, but I hate to torment him, given that he's my favorite, though I am not his. Instead, as always, I prefer to direct my mischief in the direction of Squeaker.
   Squeaker's reaction to this is far less violent than one might expect, knowing her past and her temperament. For as long as I've known her - since I found that mewling three-month-old cat bawling under our Oldsmobile - she has been the bravest creature ever. Oh, wait, did I say brave? I meant flighty. Honestly, looking back, I'm not entirely sure how I managed to charm her out from under that car. It was as though she was given to me by the gods. A ridiculous notion by any standard, seeing as I do not put much stock in such beliefs and, indeed, am an atheist. Still, those superstitiously inclined might say she and I were fated to assume the roles given to us - Mistress and Victim (two guesses who's the victim here). To make matter more disconcerting, she and I are of like mind - "Does the pet resemble the owner,or vice versa?"
   I digress.
   Now, once upon a time, there was a brief period where Squeaker played in plastic bags.  It was adorable and, frankly, quite normal behavior coming from the halfway neurotic cat.  We thought little of it until she managed to traumatize herself further. I can see it clearly...

   It was a normal day in late fall, though, calling the hour 'day' was a stretch so late in the year. Still, that did not stop Squeaker from playing; the strange lights of the humans only served to make her feel all the safer in their home, and there was a bag on the floor, taunting her, testing her, practically begging to be pounced upon. And she gave in to temptation, drawn to the activity of rolling and kicking at the thin plastic like a moth to flame.
   But wait, she thought, panic stabbing through her heart. What was this? It was-. It had her. It was wrapped around her neck like a nack, ready to squeeze the life out of her. Instinct and adrenaline kicked in, and she tore off, hoping to dislodge her attacker. She hadn't known the bags could fight back. Oh lord, they could fight back! Lamentations of the damned.

   It wasn't long before she somehow managed to lodge herself behind my dresser and we were able to rescue her. The merest hint of a plastic sack was enough to send her sprinting for safety for several months, if not a year. Even now she bears them ill-will and regards them with disdain.  Judging by that, and the incident several years back where Dad pushed his luck and threw a shoe at her when she rewarded his attentions with a swift claw in the nose, after which she avoided him like the plague, logic would dictate that me wrapping tape around her foot would cause her to fear me, or, at least, tape.
   This is, however, far from the truth. It seems the more I treat her like a dog, which amounts to more like a dog than I treat most dogs on average, the more she likes me. And, apparently, applying tape to her feet is not going to reverse the effect. It does, however, provide for amusement.
   When given the tape treatment, Squeaker has, in the past*, vigorously shaken her foot in short bursts in between attempting to walk away with dignity and failing to walk away with dignity.  Eventually she'll give up the ghost and tear the tape off with her feet.
   In all honesty, I never stopped to think about what I was doing. Personal experience tells me having anything stuck too or under your foot is damn annoying. Simply having wet feet is something I loathe when I'm not fresh from a shower. And yet it didn't occur to me that I was being dreadfully obnoxious to two of my five favorite creatures in the world.
   Indeed, I never gave it a thought, not while I was walking into the kitchen, not while I was foraging for snackage in the fridge and not until after I started shaking my foot vigorously in an attempt to dislodge some undesirable bit off the floor that had stuck to my foot. It was with a chuckle and a grin that I eventually reached down and rescued my own foot.  Owners really do resemble their pets.

*I haven't tormented her since the week after I discovered the effects of tape on felines