Henry loves boxes. He tries – and often succeeds – to open them and put his curious little nose in them. We all know that curiosity killed the cat so I cleared one of his favourite cartons, put stuff he likes inside, and put it inconspicuously in a corner. Henry hasn’t been interested ever since.
The problem is called Johnny and he is the neighbour’s cat. He is an elderly gent who has a slight weight problem (he is not fat but he could grow into it) and a kidney problem. Hence he is on a special and restricted diet. Hence he is usually hungry.
It’s now three days in a row that I found him in our kitchen bent over Henry’s food bowl happily munching along. He has gotten cleverer and waited until Henry was out of the house. I heard the crunching noises and thought Henry was having a go until I saw some white fur.
I have no idea how we gonna do this when it will be warmer again and our doors will be mostly open.
As I settled with Lothar in front of the tv, and get on with some crocheting, Henry decided to NOT let me get on with it. I kept fighting him for the balls of yarn until I managed to push over my wine glass and had red wine all over the doffee table and floor. My fault – I should have organised this better. I didn’t blame Henry. I cleaned up the mess.
Henry was clamouring to get out so I thought it might not be a bad idea if he got rid some of his energy outside. I left the bedroom door ajar and went back to Lothar, the tv and the wine. Soon after Henry came back, and settled between us. All of sudden he was on hyper alert. I followed his gaze only to find Johnny, the neighbouring tom cat, hunched over Henry’s food bowl. – A major cat fight in our living room was prevented when Johnny saw me coming, panicked, tripped over the water bowl and fled through the bedroom. My fault – I should have closed the door earlier. I didn’t blame Henry. I cleaned up the mess.
I felt like more wine so I went to the kitchen counter and poured some. Henry watched me from the dining room table, decided he wanted to join me, and took a flying leap to the counter. He misjudged, landed and kept going, falling off on the other side, taking the full glass of red wine and the bottle with him. I managed to save the bottle. The glass lay in pieces on the kitchen tiles, in a red puddle, with a nervous cat peering at me from around corner. Not my fault. This time I did blame Henry. Then I cleaned up the mess.
Vera: I am beginning to see what I am missing by having a dog. My wine is safe. No dashing wine rescue needed. Wine glasses are completely ignored. Leo’s foes stay outside. What a boring life I’m living. Except when Leo and his foe meet on the road and then I get to go to the vet…
Vivien: Das Ende der Langeweile: hol Dir Katzen ins Haus. Wir haben seitdem keinen Fernseher mehr 🙂
I found a TV program Henry actually watches and seems to enjoy. It’s called: “lots ‘n lots of fishes a-swimmin”.
How is it possible that an animal who seemingly sleeps or dozes for 22 hours each day, eats, investigates, cuddles and purrs for another hour and 50 minutes, can explode into a destructive force for the other 10 minutes (not in one go, though)?
So we acted like responsible cat owners turning down all party invitations for tonight and stayed home to watch over Henry and see to it that he would survive his first fireworks unscathed and as little traumatised as possible. We settled down for a cosy time with a bottle of good wine and a bad movie to await the midnight pandemonium.
Henry didn’t grace us with his presence but he is not really into film so it didn’t bother us. Then comes the traditional countdown 9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1… CRASH! BANG! BOOM! It’s 2019!! Outside rockets explode, stars in all colours fall from the sky, it’s loud, it’s bright. We walk over to the window to watch – and then we feel something nudge us in the back of our legs. Henry isn’t happy that we bar his view. He pushes between us, literally pressing his little nose to the window, looking outside, mesmerized by what is going on. The noise doesn’t bother him, not the bangers, not the howlers.
I’m still awake but I see Henry lying on the bed, breathing calmly in his sleep … New Year’s Eve Party 2019 – here we come!
So I’m sitting on my desk with my forearms asleep because Henry is draped over them, snoring peacefully and just being adorable (luckily I can touch type), when a gust of wind rattles the shutters quite violently and Henry jumps half a meter into the air, lands on my bossom with extended claws – totally rattled himself.
I am so lucking forward to the fireworks tomorrow night.
I won’t even comment at length on my status update last night: “It’s almost 2am and the little master has just come home! He’s been out for 8 hours. That’s the first time he’s been out for more than 10 minutes, the first time out of sight, actually.”
Suffice to say that I first checked every hour, later every 30 minutes, then every 15 …
The only thing I did see from about 11pm to 1am was Johnny, the neighbour’s tomcat, sitting bang! in the middle of our lawn. He probably knew where Henry was and just didn’t tell me.
I think Henry is a junkie. He is not into sniffing glue but licking it. Every open envelope with a self-sealing edge he finds , he licks. Any package that was sealed with self-adhesive gum, he licks. Any sticky material, he’s got his tongue on it. If I brush my arm against something sticky, there he is and licks the stuff off.
Now that Henry is allowed out he has started a new training phase (him training us, of course). I open the bedroom door and he goes out. I leave it open but it’s cold so after awhile, when I notice that he has long come inside again, I go to close it. Whoosh! Henry dashes outside. I leave the door open, just enough for him to come in and the moment I turn my back, he does. I go to close the door and — whoosh! – he’s out again. Now I close the door and I have a kitty outside complaining loudly that we are horrible people who banish him outside even though it is freezing.
I remember our first cat in South Africa (Lady Baby Cotton Socks) who would always miaow when she wanted the door opened do that she could go outside. In spring, when it finally rained again after the completely dry winter months on the Highveld, she would stick out her paw, catch a raindrop, shake it of and disgustedly turn back into the house. She would repeat this performance at all our doors leading outside, not believing that it actually rained on every side of the house. It took her at least a week or two until she remembered the phenomenon “rain”.
Henry 