The Cat’s Meow.

A perfect way to begin the new year, armed with insanity and rodent repellent.

It appears I have a deranged neighbor two floors above me who claims she has a recurring rat. As you can well imagine, this doesn’t sit too well with me, being in such close proximity. Yeah, there is an apartment between is, but I’ve been to the rat rodeo before, and they can boogaloo down a pipe like nobody’s business.

That said.

After leaving me notes like…what are WE gonna do, and she JUST saw him again, me being me, spun into action.


“Is Patrick home?” As in Pat the Cat, my noble neighbor, next door.

His father, who I seem to have awakened at 3 in the afternoon, says without pause, “Just a minute, I’ll see.”

Now you would think he might wonder why I’m asking, but merely, opens the door wider to let the furry fella out.

Next thing I know, I’m plying him with the tuna I was planning on having for lunch before politely asking, did he mind doing a little random reconnaissance work.

Being the rogue he is, when I took him into the kitchen to sniff around, then the bathroom, then back to the kitchen where I even single-handedly moved the fridge so he could have a peek behind it, the Columbo of felines pawed around. After rolling out an embarrassed blueberry, he looked at me as if to say, all good back there.

One of the many things I love about Patrick is how he looks at you as if he were smiling, and frankly, considering my ongoing buffet, why shouldn’t he be.

We then, out of the goodness of my heart who really just wanted to club her with my granddad’s rolling pin, take Pat upstairs.


Nutsy opens the door in a rose peignoir, the kind Lana Turner wore, with a martini glass in her hand.

“YES?” she says, as if she forgot her ratty notes that I’m saving for evidence when they come lock her up.

Patrick, jumps from my arms, running into her place as if he knows exactly where Mickey is hiding, however, after he patrols every nook and cranny from this, who the fuck decorated this house in this revolting shade of brown, meows a definite…all clear.

I pick him up, say to her, “Now that should be enough proof that you don’t have a rat,” then leave.

Now of course I sound as certifiable as she is, but be that as it may, as they say in 12 Step, you take the action, letting go of the result.

After a little milk break, I take Patrick back home.


His father, still sleepy says, “Oh, Patty, you’re back, did you have a nice time?”

Did Patrick just wink?

I’m just glad he didn’t say, rats.

The life of a thin girl.


About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Thanks.
This entry was posted in animals, Culture, food, humanity, humor, New York City, words, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

120 Responses to The Cat’s Meow.

  1. I loved your embarrassed blueberry!

    How clever of you to borrow Patrick! I couldn’t believe you took him upstairs. Way to go!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. skinnyuz2b says:

    I keep hearing the Mighty Mouse theme, slightly altered. ‘Here he comes to save the day! Mighty Patrick’s on the way.’ Not all house cats are mousers. I’ve had a couple that have been pathetic. Luckily, Patrick knows how to clear the rat minefield. Did his stealthy patrol put your neighbor’s mind at ease?
    Susannah, you were very generous to share Patrick’s prowess.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. However, you did it “embarrassed” blueberry was right on target. I have had embarrassed grapes discovered suddenly, and they seem to want to run away to become a raisin. (Chased by a pup, of course). I had to laugh at the vision of your neighbor. No surprise her being not dressed with a mart. Patrick is lucky to have you. What adventures he enjoys. 😁

    Liked by 1 person

  4. kingmidget says:

    I have no doubt the rat will be back very soon. πŸ˜‰


  5. Dale says:

    I dunno, Susannah… If Patrick is anything like my mother’s late cat was… Princess (no, my mother did not choose the name) was a crazy hunter, living up north in the woods. She’d bring back birds, mice, squirrels, rabbits (!) – all proud as she can be. But would she catch the mice in the house? Nope. I think she figured they were part of the family…
    This was a (as usual) wonderful and fun post to read and you need not worry… yours could be longer and would still get read because they are always so entertaining.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Dale says:

    And, would you please get David to help you add your Twitter share button? πŸ˜‰

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Sorryless says:


    Patrick sounds like my kind of cat. Go with the flow, turn on the charm and chill kind of dude who doesn’t give a fig for rules when the company is right. I relate to that, very much so. And to cats in general.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. It’s good to have a feline around you can muster when the occasion arises. Hopefully you won’t have any rats around. I would hate the thought of that. I love your description of Patrick though. πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

    • I love him. The sweet thing is, he will sit by Mimi’s old door as if any moment she’ll open it. Always brings tears to my eyes. As far as rats go, I have such a fear of them, you have no idea, which can explain my what could be perceived as, insane actions. Sigh


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