Simcha 1, Feather Duster 0 - by Jonathan

I returned home with some cleaning items, among which was a feather duster. I had placed the newly purchased items in their appropriate places and then went to use the bathroom. I usually leave the bathroom door open when I use it alone in the house because, like just about everything else in Israel, it is really just too small for me to use comfortably. I was sitting there, skimming over an issue of Newsweek when I heard a tussle, then a clank, then a flop. I rolled my eyes and tried *not* to think what my apparently crack-induced cat was up to. Focusing really really hard, I began to read the Newsweek perspective of what the future face of the Hezbollah will be.

This turned out to be futile as I began to hear the sound of a wooden object being dragged along the floor, drawing nearer as I gazed perplexed at the empty hallway and entry hall. Scrape, scrape, scrape… it came nearer with each scrape. Not unlike some horror film I felt paralyzed in my spot, unable to do anything except let the sound emerge from around the corner. Scrape-scrape, scraaaaaaaaaaape… then the image appeared. There was my mighty hunter Simcha, with a freshly killed wood-handled feather duster; it was in fact larger than him. The pride in his eyes was quite apparent. His tail stood high in the air in triumph. He had conquered the feather duster and was parading it around the house so that all could see his hunting prowess.

I was completely unprepared for this image. Instead of being angry at this defiling of my sparkling new feather duster, I became overwhelmed with the urge to let loose a large belly laugh. Here was my mighty hunter, thinking he was doing our family a great service by bringing down this odd specimen of flightless fowl.

I tried in vain to hide the duster from my miniature lion for the next several days. Each time my efforts were thwarted and a toll of dismembered feathers was to be found next to the duster carcass. It got to the point to where I no longer wanted the sadly abused thing, and conceded that I had bought Simcha a very pricy cat toy.

I had hoped that the conquest would sate his appetite, but I was foolishly optimistic. So far he has captured and eaten 3 moths and 7 flies, gnawed on 3 shoes, mutilated 4 “balls with feathers,” and unraveled 1 ball of twine. Oh, and today he shattered on Ikea brand glass cup. I don’t know who the crack supplier for my cat is, but I’m calling the DEA after the Holidays.

(another sacrifice to the little beasty)