Cats Love Boxes

Clanketty clank a-clank…thumpty thump…rattle rattle rattle. The racket intensified as I held my breath. Thump. Creeeek. Erch. The sound was upon the road in front of our home. Rattley-rattley…screeeeeee…Silence for a minute. Then, Thud...silence for a minute, then, Schweeeer…schweeer…schwuuuure. Silence for a minute. Thump…thump…thump, silence for a minute.

Then Thump…thuMP…thUMP…tHUMP…THUMP! Like the footsteps of an angry giant!

Fee Fi Fo Fum! That part was entirely in my head although I was growing concerned.

THUMP!

I nervously opened the front door where the monster had stopped, salivating surely, and licking its chops.

“Fu…king…Hell,” panted the Amazon delivery guy, his back was turned to me as he prepared his scanner by the gigantic box.

I giggled. I knew the feeling well, being in a similar line of work. He turned, blushing like a tomato, and said, “Oh hell…sorry---heck---I didn’t mean to---”

Still giggling, I said, “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Not a workday goes by I don’t say the same. Kitty litter---now that’s a back breaker.”

We shared a laugh at this, and he relaxed, no longer worried about me filing a complaint about his expressive language. Lord knows I’ve been called into the Postmaster’s office for similar offenses. Specifically, flipping off a very, very rude woman screeching at me to get out of her way on a narrow one-way road.

I said, “I very much appreciate that you brought this all the way down. In the future you can leave stuff at the top.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks!”

The guy in the blue and grey vest loped back up the stairs with a happy lightness in his step. One that comes from that certain camaraderie of being in similar vocations and having to perform unpleasant back-breaking tasks. In the future, my big strong hubby would be bringing down the heavies akin to kitty litter.

I dragged the box inside and made it to the kitchen. Mark could move it the rest of the way to the living room.

I eyeballed Jeremy suspiciously as he stood by me bouncing on his toes like a puppet pulled by the strings of a fifty-foot Stroboli who was also but a child. Pedro sat nearby, casually licking his paws and pretending not to be interested in the enormous cardboard box that the Amazon driver had lugged across a driveway and down a flight of steps.

Children loved boxes. Cats loved boxes. Big cardboard boxes.

I was a Rural United States Postal Carrier. I would have left this monstrosity at the end of a driveway, or written up a ‘pink’ for it, depending on how safe the street was from porch pirates. Our street is very safe. Long, winding, narrow…it was only until last month Amazon finally had drivers with big boy pants on step up to the challenge---whoo-hoo! Even my regular carrier writes me up ‘pinks’ cuz he’s a dweeb too chicken to come down our street and, God forbid, down our driveway.

“Jer…come on. You can’t see this, it’s a surprise. For tomorrow.”

“Awe Mom…I know,” he said in that gosh-golly-gee-Opie thing he did. Got it from his father. And I loved it. He picked up his backpack and headed down the hall, giving the big box a last glance over his shoulder. The grin on his face was sunshine for my soul.

I turned back to the box and hoped Jeremy would love what was inside the box as much as his new spaceship-fort-racecar-robot hangar. I was also hoping it would not require much assembling. That would be Mark’s job, and his honey-do list was quite long already.

I had supper to prepare, the gift assembling could wait until after Jeremy went to bed.

Mark came in from the garage, wiping generator or Dewalt or alternator grease from his hands, turning his old work shirt into a Rorschach test. “Oh oh. Amazon came, eh?”

I kissed his scruffy cheek. “Yup. You’ve got some essemblin to do Lucy.”

“What’s that even mean?” asked our eight-year-old son who’d come back downstairs. Watching him try not to ogle the box was like watching a cat trying not to bat the ornaments off a Christmas tree.

Mark said, “Google Ricky Ricardo.”

I laughed. Jeremy was obsessed with Google. I often wondered how much smarter he’d be in two years than I had been at ten. His mind was a sponge, Google the never-depleting bottle of knowledge. But he wasn’t one of those pale, diabetic-prone kids who sat before a computer all day snacking on Ho-hos and soda. Jeremy adored being outside and our neighborhood was quite safe. Instead of muggers and tweakers, we had possums, raccoons, squirrels, and a whole lot more. He was respectful of critters with big teeth and sharp claws and was quite the avid bird watcher. Thanks to the internet, he knew the names of all of them.

After the evening news, Jeopardy, and Wheel, we watched a movie of Jeremy’s choice, Despicable Me 3. At nine it was Jeremy’s bedtime. He was eager to take our dessert bowls into the kitchen.

I said, “Don’t you dare touch it!”

“Awww Mom.”

Mark said quietly to me, “He won’t be able to move it anyways.”

“I know. But the suspense is half the fun.”

“You sadist.”

“Mua-ha-ha-ha!”

“Then you won’t be opposed to me assembling the thing in the morning? Early. Say…5-5:30?”

“Of course not. I’ll take Jeremy on a good hike.”

“Not Pogonip…”

I sighed. “No. That was too depressing last time.”

“And dangerous.”

Pogonip was a beautiful nature preservation and a wonderful environment for birders. The last time we walked it, our hike was cut short. It had become a homeless encampment. Trash everywhere. We spent more time avoiding humanoids that stank with crazy. Crazy was unpredictable. Last year a woman was shot and killed right in downtown Santa Cruz with shoppers and tourists all around her. The last straw on that sad hike was when we came upon a broken crack pipe and a grungy old hypodermic needle I nearly stepped on… Jeremy had seen the glint of sun on its tip just a second before I was about to step on it. Pogonip was just one of too many homeless camps; they had taken over and destroyed all our public hiking trails. A few years ago, busloads of certified crazy people from San Francisco were bussed here and left. Santa Cruz is a magnet for homeless people of the scary variety.

Being a rural mail carrier, I know every hidden road and trail in the Santa Cruz Mountains. We could walk for miles and not be passed by a single vehicle and only rarely the occasional dog walker. Jeremy was not allowed to traverse these rural roads and paths alone. They were safe from people, but mountain lion sightings were increasingly common, with the animals becoming bolder and neighborhood pets disappearing if not by the big cats, by the coyotes.

We walked and chatted and counted bird species…until my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Mark. A text. It had to be important, he knew we were in our element; he was being stealthy.

Mark: Hey Hon, where’d you put it?

Me: What?

The box. Its empty

WHAT?!

Wait a minute…this is weird…

WHAT?!

The seconds it took for him to send me a picture were torture.

Bzzzzt. It was the box. With a hole in its backside about a foot wide.

Me: wtf? OOWH!

Mark: pale hand in a thumbs-up emoji.

“What’s wrong Mom?”

“I’m not sure yet. C’mon. French toast for breakfast?”

“Yay! I’m starving!”

The box was not in the kitchen when we got home. It was in the living room. Jeremy’s smile cracked his whole head in half like a Southpark Canadian. Mine was false. And confused. I busied myself making Jer’s favorite breakfast, stealing glances at Mark who sat at the computer desk in the den off the living room. He was Googling the item that had been in the box, apparently fully assembled and woken up.

He got up and whispered in my ear, “It’s supposed to be activated by a command. It…it’s just gone. I’ve searched every inch of the house. It must have gone out the cat door.”

Jeremy was standing right behind us as silent as Pedro who was now peeking out from the hole in the box. “Uh, Mom? Dad?”

We guiltily looked down, aware that he’d heard us.

He said, “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. We’ll just tell Amazon it was stolen.”

Mark said, “But that’s not the truth.”

I said, “Jer, we’d be setting a really bad example…”

Jeremy went to the computer and opened the Amazon site. “Okay. Order history…socks…a new Kindle?”

I said, “No, that was to replace the one your dad lost.”

He nodded and said, “Too bad you can’t get your prescription glasses there too.”

Ouch. Mark was forever losing those. I agreed with my son.

He said, “Britta filters…kafir lime leaves…kitty litter. Mom! Really?”

I guiltily shrugged. “Heh heh…yeah…well…”

“There’s nothing big and heavy here. You sure it was from Amazon? And not an Ebay seller re-using the box?”

I said, “Yes---definitely Amazon.”

Mark and I peered over our computer whiz’s shoulder and saw for ourselves. There was no record of my most recent purchase. We were out the item---the very costly item---and no proof we’d ever ordered it. I’d have to save my next four months earnings OR break out Mark’s for-emergency-use American Express. He read my mind and said, “We’ll figure something out. In the meantime, we’ll go shopping today downtown.”

Ugh. I hated going downtown ever since that local businesswoman had been shot. Too many gross people.

So, Jeremy ended up with a Star Wars Lego set, an O’Neil’s hoodie, checkerboard Skechers, and of course… the great big cardboard box. The night of his ninth birthday he stayed up until eleven, watching Steven Colbert with us after our movie. He watched it with us on Fridays when he didn’t have school the next morning and was as sad as we were that Colbert was being cancelled. Politics was hard to explain to Jeremy because Mark had a hard time not cursing or yelling when Trump’s name was involved and I didn’t follow politics at all; just too damn frustrating. Jeremy probably understood politics better than either of us, thanks internet…I mean that sincerely not sarcastically…saves us a lot of “essplaining Lucy.”

Mark attempted calling Amazon. Ha! That was as frustrating as resolving an issue with eBay, or trying to dig to China with a teaspoon. I looked for a replacement item used, but in the end only found one re-furbished one. I don’t do re-furbished any more. Three non-working printers later, I learned my lesson and bought new from Cannon directly.

After four months, I tried searching Amazon for the item that had escaped…they weren’t even listed anymore. Ha! I bet we weren’t the only ones who got ripped off. And yes, we did leave a rating as requested…a very scalding one…minus, minus, minus. No wonder the item was no longer available.

The sad result of all of this turmoil was that Jeremy was still not allowed to explore the best hiking paths, nature reserves, and mountain forests alone.

I grew up in Canada in the 1970’s. I look back and realize how awesome I had it because I had been allowed to do all of those things.

So sad that kids would never know that. The failed item was supposed to change all that. Mark and I had clapped when we saw the inventors get a killer deal on Shark Tank. Oh well, we still lived in a beautiful place surrounded by wildlife. Jeremy would just have to be content to explore the paths we knew.

***

Jeremy was just like I was at his age. The need to explore and his curiosity of the unknown led him astray one day. He figured he was close enough to the regular trail. He’d been following the path of a Lazuli Bunting through the upper pine boughs---an elusive blue headed bird he was over the moon to encounter…when a snarl ripped him from the buoyant clouds of his successful adventure.

A wolf! Directly in the path before him. He’d never seen one of those in the wild. He froze. Then slowly backed away, careful not to look directly into its eyes lest it deem that a challenge.

“RAHRRR! Git! Git on now!” The wolf took off at the sound of the voice and Jeremy whirled to face the speaker.

The man was filthy and scraggly bearded. Just as Jeremy had learned to identify wild critters and the danger they posed, he recognized danger here. It was in the eyes.

“Whatchoo got kid?” he growled, meaner than any wolf.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Money. Jewelry. A Timex perhaps. Hell, socks.” The wolf hadn’t been rabid. This human was.

“Dude. C’mon. Who brings money hiking?”

“Wise ass, eh?” The smelly man whipped out a blade so fast it was like a movie effect. It was an honest-to-God switchblade. “Yep. Got this un my last, er, encounter. Body’s just down that hill oer yonder.” He cackled then.

Jeremy didn’t know if he was joshing him or not, better to think not. He said, “You said socks. You like mine? They’re yours.”

The man nodded. Jeremy leaned to take his shoes off. The man rushed at him, blade glinting in the dappled sunlight.

Jeremy screamed and fell backwards.

Then the man screamed.

Huh?

The man continued screaming as he lope-limped off into the woods.

Where he’d been on the path was a dog. Terrier-sized, with scruffy grey fur and large pointed ears. Its stumpy tail was wagging. It said in a pleasant cheerful voice, “I was lost. I’m sorry. I need a bit of programming.”

Not a real dog. It was a KAI-9…as seen on Shark Tank. Blood dripped from its muzzle as it looked up at Jeremy with huge amber eyes. It grinned. Its teeth were polished titanium. Jeremy knew that this dog was capable of disabling just about any threat, as well as shooting tear gas from its butt.

It sat up with its paws folded over its white chest. Jeremy hugged the man-made creature; it licked his face. “I’ve found you! Or, you found me! Holy Moly!”

The dog yipped happily…then froze.

“What’s wrong?”

The android dog said nothing, the light had gone from it’s beautiful eyes like a candle snuffed out in a dark room.

***

Jeremy burst through the door and shouted, “Mom! Dad! I’ve found him!”

I ran into the living room as Mark ran in from the garage, absentmindedly wiping his filthy hands on his shirt.

In Jeremy’s Radio Flyer was our missing pet.

Jeremy told us the story. We reassured him we were not angry for straying from the path.

He said, “His charge must have run out. Where’s the other stuff from the box?”

Mark said, “This model is self-charging. Solar as well as what would be akin to running on a treadmill to power your tv.”

Jeremy nodded excitedly. I was too old for this stuff. The old-dog tricks thing and all.

“You guys… check this out…” Jeremy ran to the den and waited for the computer to boot up. It didn’t take long---I recall my first taking about 20 minutes---but his leg under the table pumped in time to the surging round wheel on the screen, egging it to speed up. Finally, after a whole twenty seconds, the home screen popped up. Jeremy’s nimble fingers were a blur on the keys. He said, “Because we’ve been searching on KAI-9 for so long, every story relating to it pops up. Look! This came up this morning.”

We read the article over his shoulder as he read it aloud. The headline was, REPORTED SNAFU WITH KAI-9.

Jeremy said, “It may have been the scanner the Amazon guy used. The new ones are so updated…” He was literally bouncing up and down. “We can ask the next Amazon guy to borrow his scanner maybe…?”

A light bulb came on in my old-dog brain. “Wait a minute. The scanners at my office were updated last week.”

After the Post Office closed and under the cover of darkness, I crept like a cartoon Puddy Tat with the 'Mission: Impossible' theme in my head. Being a small rural office, I had the yard lock’s combination and the entry code for the back door. I’d bring the scanner back so it could charge for the next morning. Updates or not, the thing’s charge still only lasted a day.

A week later, Jeremy had not once been a robot or a race car driver or caught talking to his soccer ball---his was Niko---from the cardboard hut on the deserted island. He spent every spare hour of his time exploring with Kannon, coming home to tell fabulous tales of adventure and wonderful new discoveries: birds, frog ponds, rivers where steelhead spawned. He was tanned and healthy and strong. Like I had been at his age.

“Shall we recycle the box?” asked Mark one day. “He’s not played with it since Kannon came back.”

I looked at the box in the corner of the room. Pedro popped his head out the hole. “Nope. Pedro would be heartbroken.”

Mark sighed, then turned up the volume on the tv. Shark Tank was doing a follow-up on the KAI-9 company. Seems once the scanner/self-activation problem had been solved the company had been so successful they had just come out with a new product. A KAI-KID.

Winking at Mark, I said, “Hmmm…perhaps Pedro would like a second story condo.”