The Overlooked Oscars

By Elaine Viets

The results are in for the Oscars: Daniel Day-Lewis became a legend when he won his third Oscar.

But I feel other legendary actors go unacknowledged. Actors much closer to home put on stellar performances every day. I would like to start the Overlooked Oscars. Here are my nominations for outstanding performances:

(1) Best Performance by a Starving Cat

Our gray cat Mystery is a hefty 14 pounds, two ounces. Right now, the vet wants her to stay rotund, so we fill up her food bowl in the morning and again at night. She gets enough food for two cats.

But after she gobbles up everything, you’d think she hadn’t eaten for a week. The heartbreaking howls and yowls are followed by soft  plaintive mews as if she’s too weak to go on.  Don will feed her and she’ll vacuum up every crumb.

Then if I’m out, she’ll repeat that performance when I return, and I’ll feed her again. Mystery has managed to eat as many as six meals a day. Now Don and I check with one another before we feed her.
(2) Best Disappearing Act

When Mystery has to go to the vet, Don and I carefully choreograph our routine: The pet caddy is hidden in the closet until just before we leave. Then

we open the caddy door, pounce on the sleeping cat, and carry her off to the vet.

Except the time Mystery disappeared. She’s an indoor cat, so we knew she had to be in our four-room condo. We searched her favorite hiding places – in the bathtub, under the bed and the dining room table. Don even lifted the couch, but she wasn’t there.

The vet appointment came and went. We called the office. "We can’t find her," we said.

"Bring her in when you do," the receptionist said.

We dismantled Don’s closet, piece by piece before we found her. She got her shot half an hour later.
(3) Best Disappearance Act: Lifetime Achievement Award

Our cat Harry dislikes humans, for reasons best known to himself. The brown-striped tabby is a feral beach cat. After many months, he learned to trust Don and me, but he has no use for the rest of the human race. When we have visitors, he hides. Most of our friends have never seen Harry.

One day, Gloria, our house cleaner, was working in the bathroom when I heard her shriek, and saw Harry streak through the house. Gloria was pale as bread dough and clutching her chest. (She could have won a few acting awards, too.)

"A cat!" she gasped. "A cat was hiding in the bathtub. He jumped out at me."

(4) Best Performance as an Alarm Clock (Posthumous Award)

Montana, our big gray cat with the golden eyes, wanted breakfast at seven a.m. He did not tolerate late-sleeping slackers. At 7 a.m., we got our warning meow. At 7:02, Monty started knocking things off the night stands, starting with our books. If we slept through the thudding hardcovers, he’d try the clock. Don’s glasses were next, but we rarely heard the delicate tinkle of the lenses popping out of the frame.

By now, Monty had enough. He went after breakable ornaments. Nothing was sacred, not even the shaving mug owned by Don’s grandfather. Crashing china always woke us up.
(5) Best Performance by a Bodyguard

Harry is a fearless bodyguard. Whenever he hears a strange noise, he growls, then goes under the bed. But he follows procedure. Harry always goes to the middle, so there’s room for both Don and me to hide under the bed.

Who would you nominate for an Overlooked Oscar?

 

Comments

[Marie]

I love this blog, Elaine!
I would have to nominate DH.
So far, he has convinced me that the dishwasher fills and empties itself.
The kitchen is an apparition that appears at mealtime and disappears just before the clearing of the table.
There is still hope. I am hoping to be nominated as a long-suffering spouse of 49 years..like that's going to happen.
I do not have to pretend happiness because I am still in love after all these years..with my dishwasher, you say? No, silly, with DH!!

[Elaine Viets]

Love is magic, Marie. Enjoy your disappearing kitchen and true love.

[catriona mcpherson]

Ha-ha! Loved this. But I'm very envious that you get to loll around in bed until 7. Ours start the bad cat/worse cat double act at 5.

[Mare F]

Wonderful!

[Elaine Viets]

Five in the morning, Catriona? That's when you'd see an Olympic cat toss. I don't do mornings.

[Donna Andrews]

Most ingenious excuse for not eating your vegetables: one of my nephews told me with great seriousness that vegetables and ice cream didn't go to the same place in your stomach, so it was quite reasonable to have no room for vegetables and still eat two desserts. He had me convinced.

[Elaine Viets]

That's true, isn't it?

[krisneri]

Love this post, Elaine! My monster cat Philly tops your Mystery by a couple of pounds. He's big boned. We both use that excuse.

[Elaine Viets]

Don says that about Mystery, Kris. I told him there are no belly bones.

[Dana Cameron]

Right now, my Kaylee is competing with Mystery for Best Performance by a Starving Cat. It's that pathetic half-mew, that fades as if she's also fading, that gets me. Especially when she's got a pound on Mystery.

[Elaine Viets]

The winner will be whoever can sway the judges' felines . . . er, feelings.

[Marcia Talley]

We have two cats visiting the island house right now, and "Dickie," the one with the notched ear (indicating she's been fixed) is the talking cat. "Hell-oooh," she says, and "Oh, oh, oh ..." We think she's auditioning for a Friskies ad.

[Elaine Viets]

Grab that cat now, Marcia, and she'll keep you fed for the the rest of your life. Picture yourself retiring on your own Caribbean island, bought by your loving cat.