Don’t ask me why I picked this combination of words, but I typed “cat hockey” into the search bar for today’s challenge. But here’s a quick fictional story about the 11th picture that came up.
It started as a joke. We were setting up the knee hockey set in the living room. “Don’t kick the cat out just because you’re playing hockey,” Mom bellowed. “It’s his house too.”
So we left him in the room. My brother picked him up off the couch and dropped him on the floor right in front of the net. It was supposed to be a joke. Take a shot at the cat, the cat would run, maybe he’d learn to clear the room when we brought out the hockey net.
We weren’t expecting that right paw to shoot out and smack down on the puck before it could cross the line. “Did he just save that?” my brother asked.
I shrugged. He wasn’t really asking anyway. We both saw it. He knows what happened same as I do. What he’s asking is if the cat did it on purpose. He’s asking if the cat can do it again. I don’t know the answer to that.
So I decide to find out the only way you can. I wind up and aim for the wide open left hand side of the net. I’m really gonna challenge this kitten. This time he dives with both front paws and manages to catch the puck again.
“No fear,” my brother says. There’s awe in his voice.
“What are you two doing?” Mom asks. She’s in the room now. Her hands on on her hips. She doesn’t look happy.
“He’s playing net,” I say. I point at the cat with my stick. The cat is now sitting in the middle of the net, tail swishing. He looks like he’s waiting.
My brother lines up another shot, looks like he’s gonna go top shelf. The cat stretches up, bats the puck down to the ground. No problem. “Save,” Mom says.
That’s the story of how we ended up with a goalie cat.