Tag: cat

Henry likes it clean

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Every now and again Henry disappears behind a cupboard or desk only to emerge again a little later covered in dust bunnies and cobwebs.   He is a living duster.

I always thought he enjoyed this as part of discovering the nooks and crannies of our flat but now I’m not so sure anymore.  Three, four nights ago he brought in a mouse and let it loose in our study.  He tried to find it for a while behind the boxes and shelves and desks and then lost interest.

We closed the study door, resolved to find the little rodent in the morning when there would be better light.  I heard it rummaging around in the morning and assumed it was still there and doing well.

By the time I got home from work our whole study had been turned upside down or rather inside out: most of it was standing on the patio.  My husband had been mouse hunting, overseen by a bored and disinterested cat.  But: No mouse.  He was absolutely sure that the mouse could not have gotten out.  But the room was definitely mouse-less. No squeek, no rustling.

Yet after a couple of days we couldn’t deny it anymore: there still was a mouse, it didn’t squeek anymore and it had started to smell.

We finally found the lifeless body of a little mouse, decomposing and seeping in the wooden floor behind the heavy desk. We removed it, buried what was left, cleaned the area, sanitised the area, put soda in an old sock to get rid of the smell.  Our study hasn’t been so clean since we moved in.

I am beginning to suspect that this was Henry’s plan all along.

 

Easter hunt

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Henry thought Easter without looking for something is not really Easter. Hence he decided to not spend the night at home and not come back to his early feeding time. I am sure he spent his time hiding behind a bush where he must have enjoyed seeing all three of us in regular intervals stomping through the garden with cries of “Henry! Oh, Henry!”, “Where are you?”, and “Come here, you miserable son of a … pussy!”

Anyway, he turned up long after lunch, ignored his food bowl and decided to crack an egg.

200413

Judge not lest ye be judged

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Now Henry is suffering due to the Corona virus fall out. For the same inexplicable reason that we have a shortage of TP there also seems to be a shortage of “fish in jelly” of his favourite brand. He has complained to me so much over his food bowl during the last few days that I dared to venture out today and tried to find his favourite nosh. Nothing doing. So I bought single pouches of various other brands. Tonight I offered him a bowl of trout in jelly from a premium brand, about 3 times as expensive as his normal food – and he just looked at me in disgust. I confirmed his opionion of me that I’m useless at forageing.

200320

Cat Vet Fear Sweat

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Henry needed his regular shots and I took him this morning (not without phoning first and finding out if there were any new times or rules – there weren’t).  Our previous cats shed when they were scared – Socks used to leave enough hair after a visit to the vet to knit a sweater with.

But Henry is not a shedder, he is a sweater.  He sweats so much through his paws that he leaves little paw prints on the exam table.  In fact, he slid on the wetness.  And his ignorant tin opener (that should probably read “pouch ripper” these days) couldn’t help but laugh.  Shame on me.

200318

How to get treats at unusual times

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By popular request of a single fan who asked me today privately: “Where is the f@*ing cat?” After I told him that Henry was fine albeit not f@*ing anymore since he had the snip we had a chat and then I started to look around – where in fact was Henry?
We had been lazy today and ordered food (If the prophet can’t go to the food, let the food come to the prophet, I say.) and I admit that amongst paying the delivery guy and salivating in anticipated pleasures I forgot to pay attention that the door was open. Had Henry slipped out?


He is an outdoor cat but we have been careful never to let him in the stairwell. We don’t want him to leave through the front door because of the road with cars and dogs. He has got the whole back yard to roam. True, if he really is interested in the other side of life we won’t be able to stop him but I wouldn’t want to encourage him.


I called for him behind the house – no answer. I walked up and down the stairwell and except for a curious neighbour – no answer. I checked in the garage – no answer. I finally ventured outside (in my slippers, my old baggy pants I wouldn’t be caught dead in normally – just the curlers were missing) and called for Henry. Just when I was about to give up, he appeared high up on the garage building, looking down on me and scolding me. Presumably for disturbing the neighbourhood in the middle of the night.


Back in the flat I let him in and gave him some treats. Was that cat psychology – make him appreciate coming when called? Or was it “how to train your human”? No idea.

200314

 

Thou shalt not iron #2

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When Henry is not sitting in his cardboard box on top of the ironing board – the pièce de resistance in our living room – he is curled up in the washing basked on top of the fresh laundry. I have taken to covering my washed clothes with a cloth – freshly washed, of course, as he is not to be fooled. I’ve been trying to iron for the last two days and whenever I approach the basket to do it, Henry defends his bedding fiercely, claws out and teeth bared.

Although I admit, I am not fighting him very resolutely on this.

200223