As the mistress of the house awoke from her stupor, a sideways glance revealed Sheba once again climbing to the farthest branch of the ficus tree overhanging the bed. The tree bent low to the bed in violent protest. Just as the semi-comatose mother bolts upright to save the tree, the phone begins its shrill ringing. Mother, accompanied by Caesar and Sheba underfoot, begins the frantic dash, through the indoor jungle, attempting to locate the ringing phone. 

You see, the phone often brings offers of money. Money, a valuable commodity, buys the toys scattered across the floors, hidden behind plants, and tucked into the deep recesses of gigantic pots that serve as launching points onto the trees above. 

Money causes gourmet kitten food, more expensive than Moma’s shrimp; to magically appear in Caesar and Sheba's antique china bowls. Money brings towering climbing platforms with cool little houses on top into every room of the home. Of course, however popular these man made “trees,”  they cannot replace the thrill of conquering the real thing. Eager to help mother reach the phone with the possible money; Sheba wraps herself about one of Moma’s legs as Caesar weaves in and out between her stumbling feet.

Ah, the phone does bring money this morning. Great news for all! But this means mother must now sit in front of the computer for hours on end, neglecting the kittens who live for those hours of nonstop play. What to do about this unfortunate dilemma? Caesar and Sheba, ever full of feline resourcefulness, begin their stalk of the indoor city jungle.  

The jungle, spreading from the carpet to the heights of the cathedral ceilings, calls constantly to Caesar and Sheba. Trailing ivies and philodendrons brush gently against them as they play chase. Large droopy-eared spathiphyllum leaves cover them like giant umbrellas. And the trees, the wondrous variety of corn plants, ficus, and Asian money trees entice them to climb as if they were leopards in the wild. From time to time choice toys may be seen dangling from the upper tree branches, stashed there just as a leopard hides its kill in the safety of the tree tops.  

Of course the poor unsuspecting mistress of the house, nose and eyes glued to the computer screens, remains generally unaware of the ensuing chaos. Until the fateful moment, which always occurs, the sound of a monstrous crash and the sight of running kittens.  

The jungle survives despite the overturned pots with the plant roots gasping at the air. It survives the tell tale signs of chewed leaves and soil thrown through the air by young claws. Yes, the jungle even seems to thrive on this general state of abuse. 

Perhaps the antics of Caesar and Sheba stimulate some latent prehistoric memories of residing in the jungle. Perhaps these memories of the wild cause the jungle, just as the mistress of the house does, to gaze fondly upon the kittens despite their predictable occasional insanity.  

Such is life with two cats in a city jungle.

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