CHASING, CHASING, CHASING...
Holy crap...I love the laser pointer so much, I can't even stand it! While I'm still not clear how it works, I do know that my heart starts racing, along with my feet, when I see the glowing, red dot race across the carpet.
I don't know laser's origin and, though I've tried running studies to link its arrival to certain times of day/night and weather patterns, I've never been able to predict its comings or goings. What I do know for sure is that when it shows up, it runs from one end of the house to the other without so much as a minute break! I pant and pant from the strenuous work-out, but once those endorphins kick in, I can pretty much chase the blazing beam for hours.
The red dot taunts me. "Brach...can you catch me?" it will ask.
"I sure as hell can!" I reply. "Get ready to be Brach-o-lized!"
That magical, little light eludes me every time. Even when it stops and I pounce, I somehow come up empty-pawed. I am confident, though, that with practice, I will hold the dot in my paw one day.
Yes, I will have you one day, laser beam!
There is nothing quite as satisfying as chasing the...WHOA! There it goes! Got. To. Chase. Now.
I'VE GOT BETTER THINGS TO DO
Yeah, chasing a red dot around the floor is not my idea of a good time. Don't you think I have better things to do than to salivate and gallop after a glowing red circle? Uh...yep.
First off, while Brach (the brainiac) hasn't yet figured out where the laser comes from, I have. I watch Mom sit on the couch, chuckling to herself as Brach mindlessly chases the laser. She will wave her arm around, steering the beam across the floor, over the couch, up the wall and across the ceiling--all in the name of "fun." Wise up, Brach! She is trying to make a fool of you!
Second, I can successfully predict when the laser pointer will be brought out. Hearing Mom tell someone that Brach and I are "getting pudgy" and that we "need exercise" is a dead give-away. Another solid indicator is when we beg for attention and she is too lazy to get down on the floor and play with us. Apparently, she thinks that the lazy-woman's-toy is an adequate substitution for love (how's that for emotional manipulation?).
Yes, I've been known to trot after the laser from time to time, but it's only when Brach gets tired and I feel sorry for my mom as she sits, waving the laser around without anyone chasing it. Someone has to stroke her fragile ego! Rest assured, though, on those rare occasions when I chase the beam, I'm always dainty and graceful in my pursuit--unlike Brach who sounds like he is tearing up the floor-boards with his clumsy hunt.
In conclusion, I feel laser pointers are an insult to the feline intellect. Do you want to keep me entertained? Give me the latest copy of Vogue! Let me watch as you polish my tiara! Rub my belly as I lie on a diamond-encrusted pillow! Pleasing me is not that hard...just keep the laser pointer in the drawer, thankyouverymuch.