The Cat Spoon
April 14, 2007
When I was eight years old, my father owned two cats, Pumpkin and Sam. Pumpkin very much resembled her namesake, while Sam was a handsome black and white fellow. These cats loved to eat and, thus, utilized their facilities quite often. My father would clean the box regularly, always using a particularly large spoon. This spoon was unmistakable. It had a large, distressed bowl and a short, knobby, orange handle which was losing its paint. He normally kept the spoon in a flowerpot near the backdoor. However, one day, the spoon mysteriously found its way into the silverware drawer. As luck would have it, we had company that day, and they brought ice cream. When it was time for our treat, my father’s friend reached into the drawer in search of a large spoon. Of course, she went for the biggest spoon of all, the cat spoon. “Stop,” I shrieked, “that’s the cat poop spoon!” My father assured everyone that it had been thoroughly cleaned, and had not been used for cat poop in “some time,” but no one could quite enjoy their dessert after my timely intervention. We did have a good, disturbing, laugh, though!