SHOW ME YOUR PAYPEZ!

You don't simply bring something into my house. Apparently, you import it.

And all imports are subject to immediate inspection by one extremely suspicious tortoiseshell customs official named Mika.

Groceries. Delivery boxes. Mail. Shoes. Bags. Something I carried in from the car. It doesn't matter. The minute it crosses the threshold, Mika's nose is deployed to active duty. She sniffs EVERYTHING. Not a polite little courtesy sniff, either. This is an investigation.

SHOW ME YOUR PAYPEZ! Where have you been? Who handled you? Have you been near another cat? A dog? Food?

Checkpoint One: The Sniffing

To me, a box is a box. To Mika, it's apparently a dossier with six pages of classified information written entirely in smell.

Cats experience a much more scent-oriented version of the world than we do. Their noses help them sort out what's familiar, what's new, who or what has been nearby, and whether something that just appeared in their territory deserves a closer look. So that boring cardboard box I barely notice may be carrying a whole collection of scents from a warehouse, a delivery truck, other people, the outdoors, and God knows what else it encountered before it landed on my floor.

Mika apparently intends to read every damn page of that report.

So when she plants that little tortie nose against every square inch of a package, she isn't just being nosy. Well, she is being nosy. Spectacularly nosy. But she's also gathering information about a new object that has suddenly appeared in a place she knows very well.

What the Hell Have You Been Doing Out There?

And it isn't only packages that have to clear Customs. Sometimes I'm the suspicious import.

Shoes, pant legs, a purse, a coat, even my hands can bring unfamiliar smells back into the house. If I've been somewhere interesting, Mika knows something happened long before I submit the required paperwork. I may have simply gone about my day. To her, I've returned carrying evidence.

Been around another animal? Now we may have an international incident.

Checkpoint Two: The Physical Search

Naturally, sniffing alone does not satisfy Inspector Mika. Bags require head insertion. Packages must be examined from multiple angles. Boxes require immediate interior inspection.

And Mika is absolutely the box cat. If I open one and leave it accessible for approximately three seconds, there's a very good chance she'll be in it. Apparently the only way to determine whether a box poses a threat to national security is to climb inside and sit down.

There's some actual cat logic buried under the ridiculousness. A box creates defined boundaries and a sheltered little space. A cat can tuck herself inside while still watching what's happening around her. It can feel secure, it smells interesting, and it's a brand-new object sitting right in the middle of familiar territory. For a curious cat, that's basically an engraved invitation.

Same House Very Different Customs Officers

This is also where the difference between cats becomes painfully obvious. Not every cat reacts to something new with the same level of enthusiasm. Some investigate immediately. Some hang back and watch. Some decide the entire matter is beneath them.

In my house, that difference has names.

Mika needs to know what it is, where it came from, what it smells like, what's inside it and whether she can get her ass into it.

Koji needs to know whether dinner has been served.

He's my sweet noire boy, and I love him dearly, but nobody is putting him in charge of Customs. Mika is running a full forensic investigation while Koji sits nearby looking handsome and vaguely confused about why we're all so interested in cardboard. That's not to say his interest in boxes is totally absent. He's just not as adamant as his big sister.

Search and Seizure

Once Mika has completed the inspection, we move into the legal gray area known as ownership.

I bought whatever came inside the box. I researched it. I paid for it. It was addressed to me. These facts are apparently irrelevant.

The contents belong to me. The box has been seized by the State of Mika.

This is one of the great humiliations of being human. We research products, compare prices, read reviews and spend perfectly good money on things specifically designed for cats.

The cat sits in the box.

Civilization was a mistake.

But from Mika's perspective, the box makes perfect sense. It's new. It's enclosed. It's full of interesting smells. She can hide in it, watch from it, rub against it and generally convert it from Suspicious Foreign Object into Approved Mika Property.

A Brief Word About Contraband

Before I officially transfer ownership of a delivery box to Feline Customs, I do my own inspection. Because Mika's definition of 'interesting' and my definition of 'safe' are not always the same thing.

I remove loose tape, string, plastic wrapping, staples, foam pieces, silica-gel packets and other packing material she doesn't need to chew, swallow or drag through the house at three in the morning. I also make sure there isn't anything buried under the packing paper before Inspector Mika launches herself into the evidence.

Then, assuming the box itself is clean and safe, I surrender it. There are battles worth fighting. Trying to explain property law to a tortoiseshell is not one of them.

Entry Approved

Eventually, the investigation ends. The mysterious foreign object has been sniffed, circled, examined, climbed into and thoroughly contaminated with tortoiseshell.

Mika has cleared the shipment.

The household may resume normal operations until the next grocery bag, package, pair of shoes or suspicious piece of mail crosses the border.

At which point the nose will activate, the inspection will begin, and I will once again be reminded that nothing enters this country without authorization.

Koji still has no idea what we're doing.

Ciao,

The snarkiest cat…

The Cat Whisperer Blog
Snarky Cat Boutique

Written for the Cat Whisperer Blog by Annie St. Germain, Editor in Chief, and her Kitty chroniclers Mika and Koji at Snarky Cat Boutique.

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