Appeared Dec. 3, 2006

Anyone know a cat whisperer?

I’m willing to give one of these special “animal communicators” a try if it will help me determine if our new cat Scout is seriously deranged or merely laughing behind his paw at our expense.

I need to know. It could affect whether he gets Fancy Feast or ValuTuna for the rest of his life.

Scout is a stray I found a few weeks ago roaming near Interstate 65. He’s a beautiful boy — more tan than orange with strange, dark-gold eyes.

It’s his adorable expression — cocked head, big innocent “love me” eyes — that made me take him home. It’s that same expression, so far, that has saved him from sessions on the kitty therapist’s tiny couch.

But he’s walking a short piece of yarn.

Being a stray, Scout has the idea that he will never have enough food. I have the bite marks on my toes to prove he’ll eat just about anything.

One day, I placed a half-empty can of Fancy Feast turkey dinner in a plastic, zippered bag. Knowing Scout’s appetite, I placed the baggy high on a pantry shelf behind a box of cereal.

Within minutes, I heard the sound of bags of potato chips and boxes of Hamburger Helper falling to the floor. Running to the kitchen, I found Scout on the last shelf before the top, making his way toward the cat food.

He reminded me of myself when my daughter Shannon hides her Halloween candy from me.

I learned to firmly close the pantry door but there is no door to our kitchen. My sleep has so often been interrupted by crashing sounds that I no longer bother to get up to see what fell. I figure it will still be broken in the morning.

Nights are worse for Shannon, though. At some point in his 18-month lifetime, Scout must have experienced a terrible trauma at 4 a.m. Perhaps that was the time he was mugged by a crazed Chihuahua or a cat bully took his last stash of catnip.

Somehow, the combination of “4” and “a.m.” turns him into a furry projectile with evil intent. That’s when he slinks into Shannon’s bedroom and oh-so-lovingly pounces on her feet and legs, scratching and clawing. If only he could wait an hour or so, he’d make a pretty good alarm clock. She might go to school covered in bandages but she’d get there on time.