Why is there a bowl of grated (delicious, Swiss) cheese on my coffee maker? Why do you even ask?
It was the only place that Henry couldn’t reach, and not for want of trying. I usually pinch off a piece of chicken or meat when I’m cooking as a treat for him, put it in his bowl and he is happy and content and leaves me alone after that. I hadn’t thought of him being interested in our meatless dinner of spätzle last night. He is developing quite an interesting taste in foods, it seems.
Overnight stay of our grandson. He and Henry are great friends. Henry’s subtle hint that he’d rather live with him:
After over a year of scouring numerous pet stores, internet sites, and do-it-yourself books Henry and I are finally ready to chose his bed. It should be comfortable and snuggly and complement the decor of our living room, without being obtrusive.
We had our differences. I favoured an elegant powder-blue cat cave made of new wool of New Zealand sheep, handcrafted by Lithuanian peasants, placed in a cozy, sunny corner. Henry preferred the brownish, flimsy cardboard box on top of the ironing board.
We have reached a compromise. He now sleeps in a sturdy cardboard box. On top of the ironing board. In the middle of the living room. Where it is now a permanent fixture.
The mind boggles. So does the cat.
PS: The box is kind of blue.
We had a cat in Africa.
Socks used to rid our house of crickets and Parktown prawns. She caught the horrible beasts and devoured them. And to show her prowess and diligence, she would always leave a leg, lying in the middle of the kitchen floor.
I took down the Christmas decorations on Monday night. We have glass baubles and stars made of straw and many wooden figurines. Now I can’t find one of the little figures, a white carousel horse with black mane and flying black hooves. This morning I was greeted with a little white wooden leg with a black hoof lying in the middle of our kitchen floor.
And I wonder …
Second night in a row playing board games.
Gaming night with a hard-nosed referee. Henry couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be in or out so we made him the ref.
Happy aside: It’s great when that we can now play on an even footing with our grandson. The games are also interesting for us adults and I don’t have to cheat to lose because I don’t want to discourage him completely.
Festive tally so far: A few baubles, a couple of figurines on the floor. No major damage. Henry is waiting for us to get careless.
PS: The title is apparently a Benjamin Franklin quote.
We all know situations when children play off one parent against the other. Cats can do that, too. More precisely, Henry can do that, too.
I have to get up earlier than my husband since I am going off to work. But he often has a case of the geriatric early bird syndrome sometime around 5 am (even though in his case it is often only a levisomnus interruptus – aka: he needs to go to the bathroom and then back to bed). Anyway, he often feeds Henry when he is up early.
But since Henry is a clever cat, he pesters me later: “Feed me. I am hungry. How dare you get up so late?! Feed me now.” Which I do.
Or I feed him before I leave for work and then Henry pesters my husband for food. “Feed me. I am hungry. How dare you get up so late?! Feed me now.” Which he does.
The problem is, of course, that because of this we will soon have either a very fat cat suffering from severe calorie overdose or a very picky cat who doesn’t need to eat what is put in front of him because he can always hold out for something more to his taste.
So we introduced the minion system. We have three toy minions standing on our coffee maker. Whoever feeds the cat in the morning moves one minion to the tea box standing next to it.
Sounds okay. But since I am often not quite awake before my first cup in the morning, there have been occasions with two minions on the tea box. And a very satisfied cat.
We had Schupfnudeln for dinner yesterday (those small, longish potato dumplings) and Henry was really really interested. I finally gave in and gave him a morsel to show him that it was potatoes and hence not his normal prey.
Henry sniffed at it, told me “miaow”, ate it and begged for more.
I am thinking “what the heck” and give him a whole one (they are about the size of a finger) and Henry gives me this look – like: “Who do you think I am, woman?! I am THE CAT. ” And off he stalks.
Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me – always shame on me. I’m a sucker.
It was a quiet evening yesterday. I was reading, my husband was sitting next to me tinkering with something or other. No tv, no music, just peaceful silence.
Next thing we were sitting bolt upright because the radio blared out music in shocking volume.
Did it switch on by itself? Unlikely.
Henry was sitting on top of the dials trying to reach a grasshopper on the wall. The grasshopper then proceeded to lead Henry a merry chase through the whole flat (and damn those vases and glasses and cups and ornaments in the way).
Henry 