Tag: cats

Nighty night

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Henry doesn’t tolerate covers. He might curl up in his box, or under the old sewing machine in our living room but he needs his freedom. He sleeps for a few hours on the footend of our bed (my side, of course). He doesn’t spend the whole night there, it’s like he gives this to me as a boon. And while he might drape himself over my arms when I type, he never curls up next to me when I’m sitting on the couch. A very independent cat

Today I found him like this. Our grandson had bedded him like a doll, put the cover right up and tucked him in. Henry just let it happen and even seemed to enjoy it. That’s the difference between being a friend and being staff.

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Cats and people

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Lately popular science articles and pseudo science articles have been trending the internet rephrasing the scientific article originally published in Current Biology: https://www.cell.com/current-biology/pdf/S0960-9822(19)31086-3.pdf

The first one that I read contained a sentence that really annoyed me but I’ve seen the sentiment repeated in several publications. “We are upset with cats because they do not show attachment comparable to dogs.” What utter, utter bullshit!

a) Cats are not dogs. I wouldn’t expect a cow to behave like a goat.

b) Cat owners know that their cats recognise them and form attachments to people.

c) Most cat owners live with cats not despite them being different to dogs but because they are different to dogs.

Why is this even an idea that is going around?

fighting it out

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Henry and Johnny. Henry is our one-year-old black teenager (in cat years). Johnny is the black and white elderly gent who lives next door. The one who loves Henry’s leftovers. Although I get the feeling that it is less the food that draws Johnny but it’s his way of showing that he is the boss around here. If the doors are open he will come and carefully step in our house. If Henry is around he just watches Johnny walk to his feeding place in his slow-motion gait. Every now and again he starts challenging the intruder and the hissing and spitting and screeching starts.

Great way to start day. Even better when you think: at least it didn’t happen in the middle of the night as it did yesterday.

held in high esteem

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I had a very affectionate kitty on my bed last night.  One could even say clingy.

There was this scary thunderstorm with lightning and loud bangs in the afternoon.  And I protected Henry from it.  And then I made it go away.  I am his goddess.

At least for the moment.

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lording over creation

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Arriving home. The Lord of All He Surveys is on the window ledge surveying. Once he has spotted me I get an earful about why I am coming home only now or rather, why I left at all, leaving him alone with incompetent minions who have to be reminded when to feed his Lordship instead of knowing instantly when he wants or needs something!

salad for breakfast

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Over a week ago I received a beautiful posy of flowers, now a bit worse for the wear.  This morning Henry jumped up on the sideboard where the vase stands, nudged the flower head until a single petal let loose and slowly floated to the floor. Henry hopped after it and proceeded to eat it.  Up he went on the sideboard again, nudged the flower, hopped after the petal and ate it.  Hop, nudge, repeat.  I put a stop to it after a while because I have no idea whether wilted daisies are actually good for cats and I don’t want to clean up after him.  But it seems I had pegged Henry all wrong: he is not a gardener who delights in growing things, he is a gourmet (or possibly, a gourmand).

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futility thy name is cat

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Bildergebnis für meme cats commands

Somebody posted this meme on my facebook site.  120 commands – that’s impressive.

Henry only needs to remember 3 commands (and adhere to them): Don’t run over my face when my eyes are open. Don’t scratch my chairs to such an extent that they’ll break when I sit down. Don’t get your claws hooked in my earrings.

I’m in trouble. Not only are these all negative commands and include a condition, he also ignores them, more often than not.

lethal weapon

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You know that you are a seasoned cat owner when you discover blood on your hands and arms after petting and playing with him – and you never noticed that he even scratched you.

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leaving home

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My daily fight to leave the house gets more ridiculous every day. The moment he hears me jingling the keys he sits in front of the door. At first I just left quickly. Then I rolled a ball along the corridor and he would jump after it. Now I have to throw a toy really fast and quite long, throw out my bags (I usually carry too) and try to jump after them slamming the door shut before the streak of black lightning whooshes out the door, between my legs and up the staircase.

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