As a long-time observer of the mysteries of cats, I would like to submit a theory that there exists a strong magnetic force between cats and certain common objects. And I submit as proof the fact that my cats invariably show predictable behaviors when in proximity to these everyday objects.

The ringing of a telephone always brings Koala, Pansy, and Tuffy running and turns them into whiny, demanding toddler-like creatures. As I answer and settle into a chair to talk, there begins an astonishing array of actions.

Koala is the most straightforward of the group with her attention-getting behaviors. She jumps right onto my lap and begins to walk back and forth balancing herself with care. Her sweeping plume of a tail brushes back and forth, and in no time, bits of fur are attaching themselves to my clothes, the chair, and, if I'm not careful, my mouth. If I push down on her rear-end to make her settle down, she proceeds to make a nest, patting and pushing my clothes to make a comfortable spot. Once settled, she starts to butt my hands; she wants to be petted and I am supposed to pay attention to her.

Pansy watches jealously, and she deploys a different attention-seeking device. She begins snaking back and forth between my feet, pushing harder and harder with each pass. It is a good thing I am sitting as Pansy has a good deal of weight to put into each push. I absentmindedly drop one hand down to pet her, and she goes into the feline butt up pose so I can scratch her back near the tail. If I stop, a quick nip reminds me to keep going.

Tuffy is not to be left out of this show. She jumps on the nearest ledge and begins meowing to be petted. I am out of hands, and the cries get louder. I stop petting Koala to give Tuffy some scritches behind her ears and that brings Koala to her feet. Now she is climbing on my chest to get attention, her tail swishing furiously in annoyance.

My conversation is, by now, completely distracted. When I try to describe what is going on, I am met with disbelief. It's as if I had a household of kids trying for attention whenever the telephone rings. I'm talking - it must be to them. I'm settling down - I must want to pet and amuse them. After all, the world revolves around them, doesn't it?

The appearance of the ironing board provokes different reactions. Pansy watches me set up the board, and immediately lets out a most uncat-like shriek before diving under the bed. For the entire time I am ironing, moans emanate from beneath the bedspread. Tuffy planks herself at the entrance to the room and refuses to budge, more than a little inconvenient as I carry armloads of freshly ironed clothes to hang in the closet. Koala chooses a more direct approach. Her preferred place is under the ironing board. From here she can bat sleeves and anything else that dangles as I press. But my least favorite action on her part is when she climbs inside skirts as they hang down. Besides depositing huge amounts of fur on the inside of my dresses and skirts, this also makes it virtually impossible to turn the skirt to get to the next secti0on. Closing off the door to the room only results in paws fishing under the door while pathetic cries can be heard from the other side.

Books are also items that give off the magnetic force, as do newspapers and magazines. As soon as I sit in the recliner and open a piece of reading material, there is a cat on my lap pushing up in my field of vision. The cats take turns at this, seemingly unable to resist the attraction of the printed word. I get help turning the pages and I scarcely need bookmarks; the amount of fur deposited serves quite nicely. Newspapers appear to have the added benefit of being able to serve as a roosting page while the current kitty stretches and extends itself to cover as much of the printing as possible.

Even the TV can be a force. Cats often use the coffee table or an adjacent chair to plant themselves as close to the screen as possible. Koala used to be drawn only by nature shows, but as with most of us, familiarity seems to have bred loss of discriminating taste, and now she pats at cops running or cars rolling with the same enthusiasm she once reserved for leaping animals.

There are many other objects that seem to exert this incredible attraction. Stray pens, half-drunk cups of tea, jewelry anywhere but in the jewelry box hidden behind the closet doors, even my boots whose dangling shoelaces will bring the cats running faster than a shaken kibble package. I wonder if there is a government grant available to pursue this research?

Lucille Dumbrava is a retired Teacher/counselor whose love of cats and love of writing started when she was a child. Many of her stories about the cats in her life have been collected in a book entitled CatHouse, now available from www.bookstandpublishing.com, Amazon, Alibris and local Northern California bookstores. You can also order directly from Lucille. She can be reached at Ldandcats@catsfamily.com