The Singing Cat-Shaped Cookie Jar keeps Going Off

As part of the festivities surrounding my birthday last year (that is, festivities among my family, as opposed to the festivities of The Supreme Aglet's birthday as a national holiday), my parents invited me, along with my wife and children, to a Stuart Anderson's for a lovely dinner. During the palatively stimulating meal, my mother handed me a birthday present.

The present was contained in a cat-shaped cookie jar that plays "What's New Pussy Cat?" or "Stray Cat Strut" when the head is opened. Being that Momma Supreme Aglet is a rather humorous and somewhat mischievous individual, she regarded it as a practical joke that I would have to open the cookie jar to see what the presents were inside, drawing all kinds of attention to me from strangers when the songs played.

Contained therein were a couple of generously portioned gift cards and candy, not to mention the sheer fun (at my expense) of the present-opening experience itself.

While the singing cat-shaped cookie jar served as a wonderful prop on that day, finding some use for it at home was a challenge. My wife, ever the collector of things into plastic bags, rounded up the singing cat-shaped cookie jar, along with some other items, and dutifully put them in a bag intended for storage.

At the time that the singing cat-shaped cookie jar was collected into the plastic bag, my wife was in the midst of several other home maintenance chores and decided that my office closet would be a sufficient temporarily storage place for the bag of items.

The specific area in the office closet so happens to block access to an important file cabinet drawer. Invariably, moving the bag with the cookie jar in it out of the way causes the cookie jar's head to move just enough to play "What's New Pussy Cat?" or "Stray Cat Strut". Replacing the bag where it was causes one of those songs to play again from inside the bag.

Naturally, a singing bag attracts the attention of 4-year-olds (it doesn't help that the bag has a big picture of a smiling Minnie Mouse on it), and my daughter is drawn into the office as if sucked in by some great force when the music begins to play. Of course, her investigation reveals other toys in the bag that are meant for storage, and she finds the need to remove and inspect each toy one-by-one for potential entertainment value.

With each venture, I am required to distract her in some way so that she leaves the office, after which I then replace all the toys meant for storage back in the bag.

This happened several times before I realized that I should perhaps find a new place for the bag, or break down and get a screwdriver to remove the batteries (there is no on/off switch), which is obviously too menial a task for The Supreme Aglet. My only other choices inside the closet would be to place the bag on top of other items I may need access to or on top of something which would cause the bag to be unwieldy and unstable.

I decided to forsake the prospect of storing the bag neatly out of the way by keeping it in the closet and instead moved it next to my vintage radio. Although this presents a new problem of office aesthetics, it seems to have quieted the cookie jar, and it has the practical advangage of forcing me to find a permanent place for it.

So, until I move it again, the cat-shaped cookie jar has been silenced, and the world of the Supreme Aglet is once again in perfect balance.