The Old Guy Goes Off the Deep End

A very weird thing happened last night. A lot of people came over and ripped up all of the wrapped boxes which the Pretty Lady has been wrapping the last couple of weeks. The weird part about it is that this is exactly what Pinot and I have been doing for the last week, but getting yelled at for doing it. Then they all went to see stuff explode over the Manhattan Pier. When they came back the Old Guy did a cat inventory: Pinot, check; Minette, check; Chow . . . No Chow. The Old Guy freaked. He looked under every bed, in every closet, up on every shelf. You name it, he looked there. Then he went outside and called Chow, positive that one of the guests had let him out of the house. No Chow. He kept doing this and the Pretty Lady was kind of getting annoyed at him because she wanted to rip up more of the boxes. Then the Old Guy went into the garage to search (for the 3rd time). He heard a jingle, looked up and hiding on one of the more isolated and stuffed shelves, Chow peeked over the edge. Of course he wouldn't jump down so the Old Guy had to climb a ladder, at which point Chow dug his claws in to whatever was available, while the Old Guy tried to drag him down. Finally succeeding in dragging Chow out, the bedraggled Old Guy returned to the party. I don't get it. Why not just let Chow be Chow? Heck, all of us cats know that sometimes we just want to be alone. Frankly, I think the Old Guy has lost it. I think the Pretty Lady agrees.