Shana-nigans

In the semi-darkness of the back hallway of this apartment, I often mistake my black book bag for my black cat, Shana. Ordinarily the mixup is of no consequence, but today that wasn’t the case.
Today I learned that Shana does not appreciate library books jammed between her ribs or a twenty-dollar bill and some loose change stashed in her appendix. On the other hand, the book bag purrs for bonito flakes and likes to run sideways down the hall!
After about a half hour of witnessing this topsy-turvy hullabaloo, Taxi pointed out the mixup to me, and said, “I’ve heard of letting the cat out of the bag, but confusing the two? Please.”
Apparently he doesn’t remember that on Monday I mistook him for a trendy café and lounged comfortably inside his stomach for an hour before I realized why the service was so slow!