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I'm just, I'm just Murray in a box

Anyone who knows cats knows that cats love boxes. Put a cardboard box down on the floor and it's love at first sight: it's a rare cat that won't spend a great deal of his or her day purring at, rubbing against, or chewing on a cardboard box, given the opportunity.

Murray conforms to this rule in the extreme, if it's possible to conform in the extreme. Put anything made of brown paper in his vicinity, and he's all over it. It started with his scratchie thing, a pad of corrugated cardboard which sits on the floor next to the couch; Murray loves this more than anything in the world. It's not just for keeping his claws trim; it acts as touchstone, aggression releaser, dignity restorer, and home base. When Murray feels threatened, he runs for his scratchie thing first, only fleeing to one of his Major Emergency Hidey Holes if things get really grim (as in cases of vacuuming or loud metallic noises). Murray's feelings about the scratchie thing are strong. Woe unto him who touches the scratchie thing, or dangles his foot over the edge of the couch and gets too close to it. Only the most reckless person would ever do something as foolish as, say, dangling one's butt over the scratchie thing and chanting "Muuuurrraayyy...I'm siiiiting on your scraaaaaaaatchie thing..." in a sing-song voice.

One day, after a particularly draining trip to Trader Joe's, I flopped down on the couch without putting all the paper grocery bags under the sink like I usually do. This was the beginning of Murray's tumultuous love affair with one of the bags, a relationship that began with stalking, proceeded at a fast clip through pouncing, chewing and flattening, and has now settled down into its "marriage" phase under my desk. What remains of the paper bag lives there next to the trash can, alternately adored and attacked, and acts as Murray's home-away-from-scratchie-thing until I cough or move my desk chair slightly and send him dashing for safety.

Recently, things have developed further. A box ended up on the floor next to my desk.* No sooner had it hit the carpet than Murray was right on it, sniffing every inch of delicious USPS-infused cardboard, rubbing his cheeks against the flaps, purring like mad.

A word on sizes is in order at this point. Murray is a large cat. Where most cats have heads the size of your fist, Murray's is more like a softball. Murray could encompass three normal-sized cats and have room left over for a mouse or two. When lifting Murray, it is advisable to bend your knees and use both hands. Although Murray is somewhat fat and round, his size is due largely to bone structure. In short, Murray is a behemoth, a tank of a cat.

The box that sits on the floor next to my desk is not Murray-sized. It's small, perhaps 12 inches long by 8 inches wide. If you put it next to a reclining Murray for comparison, the answer would be "certainly not."

Nevertheless, the appearance of the box unleashed something deep and primal in Murray's soul, something which mere physics could not deny. After the initial rubbing and purring session, Murray climbed right into the box and sat upright, looking around with an immensely self-satisfied expression which sent us into paroxysms of "awwww." There's something about Murray in a box which is infinitely cuter than plain Murray; maybe it's his air of contentedness or the feeling you get that he thinks he's in a little room of his own, untouchable. Maybe it's how he immediately put one of his fur mousies into the box like he was moving in. Who can say?

However, things would only get better. Saturday morning, I was sitting at my computer making my morning rounds of blogs and forums, when Murray trotted over and got into his box. I tried not to pay attention, knowing that if I looked too closely I'd spend the morning cooing at him like an idiot instead of getting my reading done. As I clicked away, it seemed to me that I was hearing a lot of noise coming from down there: *thump* *creak* *shift* *skrooch* etc. It went on for minutes. Finally, my curiosity got the best of me, and I peeked down.

I promptly drooled, fell over, and momentarily blacked out, overwhelmed at the vision of cuteness that lay before me. Somehow, with much wriggling and tucking, Murray had managed to curl himself up into a teeny tiny ball and wedge himself into a sleeping position in the box. One paw hung over the edge; excess belly, with nowhere else to go, bulged in an upward arc from shoulder to haunch; the rim of the box was at just the right height for him to rest his chin on. His eyes were blissfully closed; his face bore an unparalleled expression of rapture. Best of all though: the fur mousie now rested on one of the box flaps, which was folded so as to be parallel to the floor. Like he...like he made a little shelf for his belongings! I'm telling you, I almost died right there.

Since Murray discovered his wedging power, it's been pretty ridiculous around our house. Josh and I spend our days making status reports ("He's in the box! He's turned around! Come look!"), taking picture after picture, and inventing rules and rituals for the Murray-in-a-box cult: 1. When Murray is in the box, it is necessary to insert 'in a box' into each sentence; 2. When Murray is in the box, it is okay to scratch his ears, but not okay to open the kitchen cupboard with his food in it, because that prompts him to get out of the box; and so on. I'm not sure if it's possible for Murray to get any cuter than this, but if it is, don't expect to hear from me again. I'll be too busy building the shrine.

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Here are some pictures of Murray in a box. Please note that these do not even do justice to the ridiculous cuteness of Murray in a box in real life, but they're a good approximation.

Murray getting settled

Murray in a box! So cute!

*This box MOST ASSUREDLY DID NOT contain any Buffy DVDs ordered from Amazon. I'm on a budget here! What do you think I am, completely fiscally irresponsible?

Posted by hilatron at June 2, 2003 11:16 AM