Mom's Big Mistake

When we won our plasma TV last December, I had to ditch my big, 1980s entertainment center to make room for this one. Mounting the new TV to the wall made for a much cleaner look, but I still had to put the components and the DVDs someplace, and I didn't have a solution handy. As a stop-gap measure, I moved a narrow table in from the bedroom, put the components on top of that, and shoved two banker's boxes (containing the DVDs) underneath.

I must say, this really brought a much-needed "broke college-student" look to the room. You can just imagine how well this worked with the reproduction late-Victorian fainting couch and Edwardian-style coffee table. When I added a Playstation 3 to the mix, the look went even further downhill. I had to wedge the PS3 between the boxes and the underside of the table.

This sitting area is at one end of the art studio (appropriate because, you know, all good art studios have fainting couches and plasma TVs, don't you think?). As part of the fabulous studio makeover, we thought we'd simplify by removing the college-student influence. Toward that end, we picked up an entertainment console at Target, on sale for $50 off. Combined with the new writing desk/worktable, all the furniture needs for the studio would be wrapped up at last, and any unsightly electronics would be stored out of sight. It would be LOVELY.

But you see, I forgot one very important thing, mate. Miss Tilly, gray tabby extraordinaire, likes Her Things where they are. Always. When Her Things are not where she likes them, Miss Tilly is sad. Nay, she is mournful. Pouty. Incredulous. Inconsolable.

One of Her Things is the cable/DVR box. She loves to nap on the box and even has a schedule for it - for example, mornings (after breakfast) is cable box time. It is warm and cozy and near as she can tell, Mom will watch her for hours on end while she sleeps on it. (The fact that the cable box sits a few inches below the TV screen is sheer coincidence.) The cable box was Her Thing. Something that should not move.

But Her Things moving was a theme this week. After all, once the painters retreated on Wednesday, all Her Things, and some of Mom's, were in the wrong place. Furniture and objects were shoved into the center of the room, sitting outside, or stacked in the bedroom. It was all one big mess! While I started moving everything back into place immediately, it was not fast enough for Tilly, who started making kitty-cat yipping noises as she paced around with dilated pupils. Where was her stuff?!?

While dusting and sweeping, I caught sight of her sitting on the windowsill with her nose shoved up against the screen. She was looking at the tall roller carts I had set outside, containing art supplies. "My carts!" she trilled. These were important because they formed the platform from which she supervised the Great Outside. They were on the wrong side of the window! She squeezed a long cry of mourning from her little tabby lungs and pawed the screen.

With a sigh, I went outside and began moving everything back in. She watched me carefully and when I moved the last of the roller carts into place, she jumped up immediately. I thought I could take a break, but then she looked over at the 6' tall bookcases and cried frantically. So, I dragged in the decorative Grecian column and the twelve-level tower of collage papers that stagger her path up to the bookcases. Delighted, she leapt up to the bookcases and ran across them, then jumped back down again. She did this twice in a row. Then she ran over to me at top speed, jumped up on my chest, and kneaded her gratitude. She pressed her forehead against my lips so I could kiss her. Now tell me, how can you be frustrated with a kitty who is that grateful because you moved the furniture back?

I thought we were all good, so after dinner, I assembled the new entertainment console. It looked great - low and sleek - and as I moved the components into, I felt no small bit of satisfaction. Quite smug with myself, I hooked everything back up and turned the TV on. But then I heard a small, questioning yip behind me and looked over my shoulder to see a wide-eyed Tilly.

She stretched up and looked on top of the console. No cable box. She looked around frantically, confused. Suddenly, her head jerked as she spotted the familiar time display behind the glass door. Her box! Pressing her nose up against the glass, she pawed helplessly. Then she scurried around the console to see if there was a "back way" she could use to reach it. No such luck!

When I opened the glass door to get at some wires, Tilly squeezed past me and pulled herself up onto the empty shelf above the cable box. Squished flat, she dragged herself to the back and reached down to get at the cable box from there. I pulled her out as she wailed for her beloved cable box. Unbelievable drama. What the heck was I going to do now?

I imagine that you would just wait a few days, figuring she would forget all about the stupid cable box eventually. Yeah. You don't know Tilly. Imagine a toddler with an iron will and a memory like a steel trap. She doesn't forgive or forget.

(Perhaps the best example of this was when I brought a painting in from the garage. Back at my old apartment, it used to hang over my bed and Tilly would look at it whenever she climbed up on me in the morning for cuddling. I didn't put it back up in the new house. When I carried it into the studio a full year after the move, you would have thought I had just told Tilly she won free catnip for a year. She escorted the painting in with an expectant look and multiple happy trills. Once I leaned it against the wall, she rubbed her cheeks against it, marking it eagerly. She knew that was her painting and she was so glad to have it back.)

So, given that forgetting wasn't an option, we decided she needed something better to take the place of the cable box. Something more desirable. I wasn't sure what that would be, and then Target came to the rescue. Kathy found a brown "baseball pet bed" that was sized perfectly for a little Tilly Bear. Last night, I put it on top of the entertainment console. Tilly stubbornly ignored it, but Lola - sensing an opportunity - curled up in it. Once Lola had accepted it, I knew Tilly would soon be in competition.

This morning? After breakfast, I found Tilly curled up in the new bed. Right now, she's just fallen asleep after bathing in it. Earlier, I did catch her casting longing glances at the cable box, but she seems to know that the bed is better. Besides, with this, she can still be comforted that Mom watches her as she naps. And that? Is the best Thing.

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