Lastalker...

You remember Foster, right? The black and white cat who rode a potholder down the counter and slapped herself into the side of the refrigerator?

Didge has warned me, time and time again, about this cat's sneaky nature with regards to thieving her favorite eats. This cat has dragged a whole pizza, in the box, off the kitchen counter trying to make off with it. She opened a microwave to get to sausage Didge had stashed for later (we have to lock things up). But today, I made lasagna. And today, I learned how much of a full-on sneaking stalker this cat is.

I swear to God she recognized the word "lasagna". I have never seen a cat get so stock-still-animated (if you have cats, you know what I mean) over preparations to chop an onion. The smell of sauce perked her right up; she didn't so much as blink until the pan went into the oven. I thought the cat would black out from excitement waiting for it to be done. And when it came out? I had to surround it with things. She tried every angle conceivable to get to that pan, which I'd covered ever, ever so tightly in foil. Water bottle be damned, if that cat could have levitated beside that pan, she would have. And even once I thought it was safe, Didge shouted from the living room that I needed to watch out. She was about to jump on top of the pan from the top of the refrigerator, an approach that would handily get around the pesky barricade I'd built. And until we left with that infernal pan of pasta (it was a meal for my in-laws), she sat and *stared*. And *stared*. And *stared*. She watched it being carried down the hall and out the door. Right now, she's back on top of the refrigerator, staring at where it had been. She is primed and ready, on the brink of a food-snatching pounce.

I bet all hell will really break loose when Didge goes to make a sandwich.