Why don’t I just give him a bell?

Having a family member who works irregular hours creates havoc with catsipline! Henry used to ask for his food pretty much every morning at 7 o’clock, give or take a few minutes depending on the sunrise and weather. It took some effort to make him understand that patience is a virtue and that his humans are not appreciative of being woken at the crack of dawn but he had accepted this principle, more or less.

Since our son has started to work different shifts and on some days gets up at 5 am and on other days I am the first one up at 7.30 am, Henry has decided that if his humans practice anarchy then he will, too. He goes and comes as he pleases, sometimes at midnight, sometimes at 2 am, sometimes even later. And breakfast whenever he feels like it, basically anytime between 4.30 and 6.30am. And he is NOT taking no for an answer, making such a racket outside the bedroom door leading in the garden that is difficult to ignore. Or, if he is already inside, he knows exactly how to bump his head in my face that gets me awake and at the same time all gooey because I know it’s how cats express their love. He’s toying with me, and I still do what he wants me to do.

How to Make a Dutch Oven

With the cold weather Henry has very much shut down most activities and found a new purpose in life. He has become my duvet closing clamp. He makes himself as loooooooooong as possible to make sure that no air is coming out at the bottom of the duvet, nor that any of my feet can stick out. He looks very much like one of those door draft stoppers. I almost needed to go to panoramic view on my camera to get all him in the photo.

I’ve been dethroned

Henry used to snuggle on my hands and arms until they were numb. He used to come to me for food first although my husband fed him just as often. He used to sleep on my side of the bed, right at the edge.

Guess what? This all has changed in the last month or two. It means I sleep in later (ha!) and I really didn’t begrudge my husband the added attention.

Until today when I found them both napping together.

What have his feet got that I haven’t?

He loves me! 💖

And I’ve got proof!

I fed Henry some of his favourite chewy treats. He was wolfing them down and when one was left I bent down towards him and made slurping noises as if I was going to gobble it up myself. Henry looked up quizzically, stared at me and then backed off. He was going to share his treat!

Needless to say I didn’t eat it.

Henry and the mice

Henry is seriously puzzled, it seems.

Apparently, I don’t appreciate enough what he brings me. So he can’t tell what I like. Hence he brought a different kind of mouse every night this week: a normal sized grey one on Tuesday. a fat white one on Wednesday, a thin brown one on Thursday, and a miniature brownish-grey tonight.

Maybe I should start making more of a fuss when he comes in with his special little miaow and a – hopefully – dead mouse.

Henry and the mouse

Yesterday Henry brought us his first mouse of the year. He took it straight to the guest toilet and we closed the door as we thought that the better option to having a mouse run wild in our flat. When Henry wanted out, we let him and searched for the little beasty. No mouse. We cleared the room (it’s not that big after all). No mouse. We checked the cat toilet. No mouse. We checked behind the toilet brush, behind the small shelf, behind and in the bucket with the cleaning products. NO MOUSE.

Henry thought otherwise. He laid himself in the doorway and kept watch. Whenever one of us passed he told us about the mouse. Although we tried to convince him that there was no mouse, he stayed adamant. And would not budge. We searched the little room again. We took all movable furniture out. I took the opportunity and mopped the floor. There was no mouse.

Until there was a mouse. And Henry caught it and was very proud. And smug.

We will never doubt him again.

Oh, so many things

When Henry more or less ignored the Christmas decorations I thought that he had finally grown up and started his life as a settled cat.

Until I brought out a few twigs and flowers and attached some early Easter ornaments.

He’s not grown up. He is just more of a spring person character.

I have to find a safe(r) place for my spring bouquet, it seems.

Relationship defined

I knew that my husband had business elsewhere this afternoon and that I’d be coming home to an empty flat. The front door was locked, the doors to the garden were closed and locked, and like he often does, he had closed the doors to the study and the bedroom before leaving. I made myself a nice cup of coffee, grabbed something to eat and flopped on the sofa with a book to read. Henry had to be outside as he was nowhere to be seen or heard.

I started on some overdue household chores and switched on some loud music.

I finally decided that enough was enough and some pc time was called for.

When I opened the door to the study Henry, who usually doesn’t hold back with mews and miaows, gave me the most reproachful sideway glance and stalked silently past me – as if it had been my fault that he’d been locked in!

After stretching his legs and dismissing his food bowl, Henry has now settled in his favourite place on top of the ironing board and just glares at me.

Oh, what a fate – to be the servant scorned by her king!