Last night Ivan and I had a great game of Hallway Hockey. This is truly one of my favorite activities. For those of you unfamiliar with feline sports, perhaps an explanation is in order.
Hallway Hockey has few rules. It basically begins spontaneously with little or no warning. Last nights game began when as I was rearranging some of my two legger's knick knacks, I "accidently"
knocked one off the shelf. This is what is commonly referred to as "putting the puck in play". Ivan immediately took the shot and winged it off the bathroom door. Well played Ivan, well played.
Now the field of play can be described as: anywhere in my house that has a floor hard enough for the puck to travel smoothly and preferably loudly. The only goal is to make as much noise in the middle of the night as we can while simultaneously causing as much collateral damage as possible.
I intercepted Ivan's next shot with my patented "psycho-nut" pounce. This maneuver caused enough noise to wake the male two legger. As he entered the hallway, Ivan and I were prepared. We had already curled together on the couch and were feigning sleep. This left Tiger Lily standing in the hall alone. Though he suspected us, the evidence was against her. Despite her plaintive whining, she was banished to the guest room. Since she took one for the team, I decided not to smack her tonight.
Relocating the puck, I ricocheted a bank shot off the baseboards right at Ivan, who in his zeal for the game, barreled into the trash can knocking it over and spilling its' contents. Incredibly this did not bring about the two leggers. After a few minutes of tense waiting, I decided to resume the game. Alas this was not to be. While I was distracted, Ivan ate the puck.