Tying Cats

I am a novice fly tier. When I joined the PFF, I was amazed at the skills of the guys had to tying those tiny little things that caught fish. But, it did look like fun and since I was good with my hands, it seemed a natural fit. I then took the beginning fly tying class at the workshop and am now reasonably competent at the simple ones.

Now that I had gotten the bug, I decided to make a place at home where I would be away from the general noise that comes with my house, kids (one moved out and has since moved back in), in-laws, dogs, grandson, and cats. I took over an upstairs bedroom. I got some cheap furniture and set up shop. Things were proceeding nicely.

Then one morning I heard this terrible scream from my wife. I jumped out of bed and ran to the kitchen, expecting to find who-knows-what. She was screaming something about an animal in the house. We have raccoons around our place but it wouldn't be in the house, I hoped. I caught the image of fur out of the corner of my eye. Mice. But, it wasn't moving. I bent down and picked up the fur. Funny, it looked like a patch of moose hair. Since I live in San Mateo and the nearest moose is probably one thousand miles away, I soon realized that it was part of my tying materials that had mysteriously walked down the stairs and scared my wife half to death.

I began to laugh. The look my wife gave me quickly eliminated that emotion. I spent most of an hour soothing her and promising to take the errant hair patch upstairs and keep it up there. Now to find out how that moose got downstairs.

I went to the tying room. Feathers were scattered everywhere along with ripped plastic bags. Someone had gotten into my material. Stepping over a calf-tail I approached my tying table. The table has two drawers under the top but both were closed. I then saw the smaller of our two cats sitting under the table on a box of old PFF literature I had stored there. She looked guilty.

It seems that while the table drawer was shut, there is a small space between the drawer top and the underneath side of the tabletop. The feline in question had stood on the box, reached between the drawer top and the underside of the tabletop and played grab-bag with whatever her little paws could find.

What have I done to alleviate the situation? I can't just close the room door. We lock the cats in that room when the dogs are out. There is the sack-and-river approach, but I do like the cats, sometimes. I'll just have to clean up after myself and remember to put the materials in a locked box when I'm done. This is quite an undertaking. I'm not the neatest person on the block.

We now have a truce. The cats stay away from my tying materials and I promise not to throw them down the stairs. It seems an equitable arrangement.

Isn't it great when we get along with others?

– George Conway