Yes, Ridgefield has its very own pint-sized thief, which just happens to be my cat, Wapato. What does he take, you may ask?
Oh, lots of things, really. He brings me whatever he can find that he thinks is useful. When he realized I was pregnant with my second child a few years ago, he started bringing me baby blankets, toys and baby towels. However, a few months ago, he started to bring me the paper. At first, it was just one or two of The Reflector, but then he started bringing me three or more. I didn’t know until a couple of nights ago that he has also been stealing The Columbian from the mayor.
You see, I hardly have time for my morning cup of coffee, so I don’t even look at the papers Wapato has brought me. So I never realized he was bringing me many extras. I just gather them up and put them in the recycling bin. So for the past few months, our poor mayor thought a person was stealing his paper, and has been setting up decoys, leaving notes and finally had the paper deliverer put the paper — someplace where the cat can’t get to.
(Editor’s note: We checked with Ridgefield Mayor Ron Onslow, who confirmed this story. Onslow even staked out his driveway by sitting in his car one morning at 4 a.m.; the newspaper was there, he said, and then it was gone. He saw nothing.)
My husband is completely mortified. Thankfully, my neighbors think it’s hysterical. We let them all know at a block party that the thief is our cat. We apologized to everyone. The mayor had been frustrated, but when he heard it was a cat, he thought it was really funny. He said, “Now I know it’s a cat — what can you do about that?”
I think Wapato must be part dog, because he also brings me the occasional slipper with the papers to my back door. He doesn’t steal to be malicious, although the mayor’s heartburn might disagree — he just loves me and wants to bring me things. I can’t get him to stop. I wash everybody’s belongings and take them back every day.
Take last year’s Thanksgiving dinner. As I was pulling the turkey out of the oven, Wapato desperately wanted outside. A few minutes later he came back with a live bird, as I have never been very appreciative of dead ones, to add his part to the meal. His predecessor used to bring me all manner of dead animals, and I think Wapato could see that I was never very impressed with any of it, not even the dead duck stolen from the hunter across the street.
A few years after his predecessor died, Wapato started bringing me anything and everything that others left out. He also steals things out of the state patrolman’s garage across the street and from our neighbor Leann.
So to all of my neighbors and most especially to the mayor, I am so sorry that my cat is a burglar.
Everybody Has a Story welcomes nonfiction contributions, 1,000 words maximum, and relevant photographs. Email is the best way to send materials so we don’t have to retype your words or borrow original photos. Send to: neighbors@columbian.com or P.O. Box 180, Vancouver WA, 98666. Call Scott Hewitt, 360-735-4525, with questions.
