The Incident of the Night Potatoes

A few weeks ago, I woke up in the morning. Just like I do every other morning. I made my way to the kitchen to boil some tea, and then let my dogs out as usual. I walked into the living room, and noticed a strange mass on the floor. It was large, brown, and sat just in front of the TV stand. I knelt down for a closer look and decided that it was a potato. But, how did a potato get from the bag in the kitchen, to my living room? My sleep-muddled brain immediately laid the blame on the dogs—perhaps they had become fond of playing with potatoes in the dark. Once my mind had started to function at a semi-normal level, I realized that the dogs would have left chew marks on the potato. There were none.

I was perplexed. This was not a small potato. It was a Russet, about the size of my palm at least. Our house is a bit off in how level it is, but it wasn’t enough to make a potato roll from one room to another. I called my husband and asked if he had any idea why there was a potato in the living room. He did not. I had no other ideas, so I snapped a picture of the potato to show him for a laugh, and threw the vegetable back in the bag.

I do not like mysteries. I do not like surprises. The thought of not knowing something that is seemingly just within my reach frustrates me to no end. My mind kept drifting back to the potato in the living room. I couldn’t stand it, but there wasn’t much I could do about it.

Later that afternoon, I was sitting on the loveseat reading a book when I heard a plastic bag rustling. I made to reprimand the dogs, but realized that they were both asleep at my feet. I started to think that I was a victim of some vegetable spirit. I readjusted myself and looked into the kitchen. I noticed our cat, Odin, the potato bag, and no ghost. Odin was sitting next to the potato bag, chewing on the corner. Utterly entranced by the taste or feel of the dirty plastic in his tiny cat mouth.

So, now I had a culprit, but how on earth could a tiny cat have retrieved a large potato from the bag? And, what was his inspiration behind playing with a potato? I never did find out. But, now when we find potatoes, or other foods in places where they shouldn’t be, we shake our heads and laugh. I’m tempted to place a camera in the kitchen so that one day I will catch him in the act of playing “Night Potatoes”.

The rogue “night potato”

Odin, just being a cat

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12 thoughts on “The Incident of the Night Potatoes

  1. Once it moved when prodded, he could have poked it until it fell off the counter easily enough. If he carried it in his mouth, you might have seen his bite marks.

  2. Very cute! Not knowing how the potato got there would make me crazy too! We have a cat that loves to lick plastic. She’s a bit odd, but we love her!

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