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Day three. I sense a trend.
Sunday, 3 January 2016 11:22 am"Wait A Minute, You Don't Need A Fifty Piece Orchestra To Play For Three Chipmunks!"*
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Back November I bought four cases of Friskies canned cat food: two chicken, one beef, one fish, all filets. Meg does not care for pate, which we pronounce so that it rhymes with fate. (OK, Meg doesn't say it at all, but he appreciates my expression of contempt for it.) While Meg will eat turkey or things with cheese in them, chances are he won't finish the can. So I've given up trying to widen his horizons, and now I buy lots of the thing he likes, and he eats them in rotation. He isn't any fonder of the chicken than he is of the other two, it's just that I over-estimated how much fish and beef I still had at home. I might just pick up two more cases. Right now I don't have to buy more food until sometime in March—and that's without the extra case of chicken. That was my goal: to have enough cat food to last through the winter. But it hasn't been all that wintery yet, and I'm still in nesting/hoarding mode. And I'm going to be up that way anyway. And it's not like prices will be going down. There, that's two rationalizations, I've exceeded my recommended daily amount and it's only nine a.m.
Meg's not a kitten anymore. He spends more time in the house—sometimes he doesn't go out when I leave for work, even on nice days. Sometimes he spends his nights hunting, only joining me for naps. Thought I can usually coerce him under the covers by turning the thermostat way down. Then he comes under the covers. He starts off in a little ball by my stomach, and I pet his face for a few minutes, 'til he pushes my hand away with his paw. After that we hold hands and go to sleep. As he warms up, he stretches out, his face seeking the edge of the covers where it's cooler. Usually by morning he's back out from the covers, but lying next to me.
The best part about Meg is, he's always happy to see me. He's reasonably cuddly, and reasonably independent, and he's very quiet, though he has started allowing me to see him speak. Before he'd go in another room and complain, like he was afraid if I knew it was him making that noise, I'd be upset. And if he just had a little something to say, he'd turn his head. But now he walks towards me, talking, sometimes.
Running is still one of his favorite things. And he seldom scratches at the furniture. He doesn't like scratchy things, he likes smooth things to scratch at. He found an old purse of mine to use as a scratching post thing. Obviously not really a post, as it's a purse and just lays there on the floor in a completely un-post-like manner. He also wants to scratch my car seats.
He doesn't like going places in the car, but sometimes I come home from work and sit in the car and read for a while. I cannot explain this behavior, and Meg doesn't understand it, but he likes to get in the car with me. He just likes to be with me, even when I'm inexplicable.
*Dave Seville
-:- -:- -:- -:-
Back November I bought four cases of Friskies canned cat food: two chicken, one beef, one fish, all filets. Meg does not care for pate, which we pronounce so that it rhymes with fate. (OK, Meg doesn't say it at all, but he appreciates my expression of contempt for it.) While Meg will eat turkey or things with cheese in them, chances are he won't finish the can. So I've given up trying to widen his horizons, and now I buy lots of the thing he likes, and he eats them in rotation. He isn't any fonder of the chicken than he is of the other two, it's just that I over-estimated how much fish and beef I still had at home. I might just pick up two more cases. Right now I don't have to buy more food until sometime in March—and that's without the extra case of chicken. That was my goal: to have enough cat food to last through the winter. But it hasn't been all that wintery yet, and I'm still in nesting/hoarding mode. And I'm going to be up that way anyway. And it's not like prices will be going down. There, that's two rationalizations, I've exceeded my recommended daily amount and it's only nine a.m.
Meg's not a kitten anymore. He spends more time in the house—sometimes he doesn't go out when I leave for work, even on nice days. Sometimes he spends his nights hunting, only joining me for naps. Thought I can usually coerce him under the covers by turning the thermostat way down. Then he comes under the covers. He starts off in a little ball by my stomach, and I pet his face for a few minutes, 'til he pushes my hand away with his paw. After that we hold hands and go to sleep. As he warms up, he stretches out, his face seeking the edge of the covers where it's cooler. Usually by morning he's back out from the covers, but lying next to me.
The best part about Meg is, he's always happy to see me. He's reasonably cuddly, and reasonably independent, and he's very quiet, though he has started allowing me to see him speak. Before he'd go in another room and complain, like he was afraid if I knew it was him making that noise, I'd be upset. And if he just had a little something to say, he'd turn his head. But now he walks towards me, talking, sometimes.
Running is still one of his favorite things. And he seldom scratches at the furniture. He doesn't like scratchy things, he likes smooth things to scratch at. He found an old purse of mine to use as a scratching post thing. Obviously not really a post, as it's a purse and just lays there on the floor in a completely un-post-like manner. He also wants to scratch my car seats.
He doesn't like going places in the car, but sometimes I come home from work and sit in the car and read for a while. I cannot explain this behavior, and Meg doesn't understand it, but he likes to get in the car with me. He just likes to be with me, even when I'm inexplicable.
*Dave Seville