With startling clarity I remembered a time a few years ago when I was living in Hoffman Estates with twanfox. This was a little bit before cabbitattack joined us -- maybe a year or so before she moved in with Twan. I had adopted Ra from the shelter and the little black cat with the white patch certainly seemed comfortable in his new demesnes after a few weeks. You could tell that kitty knew he owned me -- meowing imperiously, sleeping wherever he wanted (usually between my ankles when I was trying to sleep) and constantly getting into trouble as most kittens are prone to doing. One thing I learned quite rapidly, however, was that I had to remove the "springs" from certain doors in the apartment (you know them... mounted at a bottom corner of a door, used to keep it from smashing into the wall if you open it too forcefully). Not only was the door to my room quicky de-springed, the one in the bathroom followed shortly after as well. Why? Because when Ra was locked into those rooms for whatever reason he would demonstrate his displeasure at such an unjust incarceration by batting and pawing at them. His favorite trick was to bend the spring back until he couldn't hold it in place anymore. Once they'd reached the "point of no return" the spring would fly free of his grip with that annoying "SPROINGGGGGGGGGG!" sound that was astoundingly loud and reverberated in ways I couldn't begin to fathom. Sadly what used to amuse us endlessly when we were children was now the bane of my existance! As I was no longer a child (and I was overworked and undersleeping) such distractions were far from welcome in my household -- especially when I was trying to catch a nap on a Saturday morning. Removing the springs only inspired Ra in other ways, not the least of which was his attempt to master opening doors by jumping up and grabbing at the door knobs. But it was that distinct "SPROINGGG-GGG-GGGG!" sound that pulled the memory to the surface for me, and I couldn't help but grin.
Ra doesn't do that anymore, but as he was exploring around behind the door he did step on the doorstop and it made a faint, half-hearted imitation of the sound that use to haunt me at 3:30 in the morning.
As a friend once said, "Those were the (bad old) good old days. Don't you wish you had them back?"
Give me a ticket for an aeroplane