The case for tranquilizers

We have a four-year-old cat at our house that's a bit on the skittish side.

Now this guy is not the kind who would ever shy away from a stranger coming to the door. Quite the opposite - this cat is the first at the door waiting to see who is ringing the bell for a visit.

His skittish behavior is more geared toward things only he can see.

It's not uncommon for him to run at top speed across the room, chasing something invisible to our human eyes. We originally believed that the feline eyesight must be much sharper than that of the human, believing this cat actually might see something the rest of us can only imagine.

Yet our other cat, his brother, would only glance from his perch above the couch as this skittish brother of his would roll on the floor, fighting an imaginary foe. We honestly believed the sedate cat was almost embarrassed with his brother's behavior.

So bizarre were the actions of this cat that when it came time to name him, our unanimous choice was Psycho. His name matched his character.

And this cat has since lived up to its hype.

So when I read not long ago that the latest thing for those who love their slightly edgy pets is a dose of animal Valium, I immediately thought of the Psycho cat.

And while I'm not a fan of drugging an animal to make my life easier, I must admit for a fleeting moment, it was pretty tempting.

I remembered the night I was the only human in the house, and the Psycho cat sprang into action. He jumped through the room as though being chased. Then he went to the closet door and sniffed under the door. He pawed at the handle, and then just sat, staring at the closed door.

Now be honest, what would you think if you were home alone and that happened? Naturally, I questioned whether or not I was the only human in that house. Visions of old horror movies, including "Psycho," began playing in my head.

Slowly I stood up, and very quietly began walking toward that closet. My heart was beating so hard I was certain whoever was behind that closet door could hear it. I froze, believing I heard a noise inside the closet.

The Psycho cat remained on guard, watching me on the approach. I was praying the cat wouldn't decide to offer a quick "meow" at that moment, but he remained silent. He no doubt sensed the danger.

Finally, I was at the closet door. Putting one hand on the door knob, I steeled for whatever was about to happen. My mind thought of my family, and how they would no doubt miss me if some monster on the other side of the door was waiting to do me bodily harm.

With a gulp of air, I threw open the closet door, ready to do battle with whatever the Psycho cat was alerting me was in there.

My eyes quickly fell upon ... nothing unusual. There were a few coats hanging there, and some unoccupied boots on the floor.

I looked at the Psycho cat, searching for an answer. He turned his back on me and walked away as though I was the one who wasn't quite right.

I can't prove this, but I'm pretty sure I heard him whisper "psycho" as he walked past me.

So I'm considering some of that kitty Valium, because if my cat doesn't need it, I could certainly put it to good use.