Outsmarted, again

The other day, I was standing outside our farmhouse, having a conversation with some friends. We were talking about our two cats, one a striped male and the other a gray female. We discussed how different they are and how special it is that, despite their differences, they cuddle and calm each other like old lovers. We talked about how the gray cat is shy and insecure, not as naively bold and trustful as her male companion.

While we were talking, she appeared out of nowhere, like cats often do. "Oh, you heard us talking about you, didn't you," I said. She meowed, circled around me, stroking and hooking her tail around my leg. She started walking towards the stabbur, a white storage building on tall pillars. It felt like she wanted me to follow her, so I did. Over the fence, around, and under the pillars she led me. In the dim light under the wooden floor, she lay on her back, rolling around, rubbing her fur against the ground.

She clearly wanted a cuddle, so cuddle we did, her curling into my hand as I stroked her. She looked and felt so safe in this hidden place. I didn't know she could cuddle like that. "I can cuddle," she seemed to say, "I just prefer to be in a space that feels safe."

The cuddling stopped. She moved a meter to the left but kept staring at the spot where she had rolled around. I tried to get her attention, but her eyes were locked. Scenes from movies I grew up with flashed before my eyes: the dog that came to warn them, barking, with unusual behavior to capture the human's interest and attention.

Did she want me to dig? I decided to give digging a try. "There better be something down here," I thought to myself as I dug my fingers deep into the hard, dusty, rocky ground.

I found some big sharp stones that I put to the side, nothing special. I found some shattered glass, a nail, and a piece of wood. Nothing interesting. I looked at my cat who was still staring.

After digging for a while and finding nothing, I decided to come back and finish the investigation later. I could even bring tools. The hole was quite big, with a pile of dirt next to it.

I walked back up to the farmhouse, greeted my friends, then turned back around to look for her. Did she come with me? I bent down to see underneath the pillars. She was still there, digging in the hole I had left behind, softly and slowly pawing away.

"Oh wow," I thought, movie scenes flashing again, “she insists, there is something there. A treasure, an old ring, or maybe a lost key”.

I was just about to rejoin her when I noticed her movements changing. She replaced her back paws, lowered her body and squatted down… to take a dump.

It was quick and silent, placed with precision right in the middle of the hole. Then, with one paw and then the other, she gently started revamping the soil, pushing it gently into the hole. She was thorough, taking her time, enjoying the dig. No sharp stones, no glass, no nail—just a profound shit, in a perfect toilet that her perfectly stupid human made, just for her, in her safe spot.

You are welcome.