Column: Mystery of the disappearing cat kibble, part 2

Read part 1 here

Oh, the scandal. What started as a minor curiosity had whipped into an endless loop of accusation and denial, a classic “he said, she said” with husband and wife caught in a battle for the ages. Someone was guilty of neglect. The evidence seemed clear on that point, but the identity of the true perpetrator remained hidden.

The crime was one of wanton waste. A family resource was being needlessly depleted, and neither of the two humans in the house was willing to fess up to leaving the lid screwed off of the cat food canister.

Kibble had fallen, and cats had gorged on multiple occasions, but neither Kristin nor I would confess to the repeated underperformance of a critical family duty. I was certain it couldn’t have been me, and Kristin made the very same claim. Each was quick to accuse the other but slow to even conjure the idea that neither may be correct. An investigation ensued.

My part in the daily routine is the first feeding, which takes place before dawn when I place a scoop of food in each of the cats’ bowls. This is no small task as the beasts must be held at bay while doling out individual servings from separate canisters (since our overly precious felines couldn’t possibly be expected to eat the same brand of food). Kristin enters the picture later in the day when she is pestered into giving the furry-tailed piglets a second mid-day dose, then ultimately a bedtime snack. The cycle repeats come morning.

Without telling Kristin, I decided to document my completion of the task by taking a snapshot of the canisters with lids fully reinstalled after an early-morning feeding.

Just a few hours later, I received a text from Kristin with a photo of the lid screwed off one canister and the contents obviously and greatly diminished.

“Guilty!” she wrote in a follow-up. “It might be time to throw yourself on the mercy of the court!”

“False!” I responded alongside a time-stamped photo of my own that clearly proved I had done my job.

That’s when the whole notion of a third suspect struck each of us at the same time.

“Wait! Who is the most obvious beneficiary of this thievery?” I asked.

“Moses!” came Kristin’s instantaneous response.

To catch a thief, one must lay a trap. So Kristin reinstalled the lid and hastened to position a security camera the kids had gotten us last Christmas (and I have yet to permanently install) for a view of the cat pantry. In her haste, however, she had forgotten to grab an extension cord. So leaving the scene unguarded just one more time, she ran off to fetch one.

Her timing proved exquisite. She returned to the scene to find the obnoxious, orange “King of the Beasts” had, with a twisting flick of his padded mitts, unscrewed and flung the lid aside. He was now perched atop the neighboring canister — his head fully inserted into his own lidless jar — happily chomping away.

The physics of it all still mystifies me. I mean, here I am with a 3-pound brain and opposable thumbs, and I can barely open a pill bottle. The wonders of the animal kingdom never cease.

Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John at jlorson@alonovus.com.