Sitting here gobsmackedly reading a wonderfully useful post about plotting when Mr Padge rushes into the study. His way of saying hello is headbutting your leg, hard.
When that doesn't get my attention, he wraps himself around the wheels of my office chair, waiting for me to move even slightly so that he can shriek indignantly about my running him over (even though I haven't).
When I look down in alarm, startled from my plotting reverie, he looks up and wails piteously (WOWWWW) then headbutts my leg again.
WHAT? I stand up. WHAT? SHOW ME.
He walks ahead of me to the door then hesitates and looks up and WOWWWs again. I am never sure whether he wants water (bathroom) or crunchies (laundry). This is the crossroads, so I ask again. WHAT?
He can't seem to make up his mind, so I start. I move down the corridor. If I'm wrong, and he wants water, he'll trip me up and head back to the bathroom. If I'm right, he'll rush past me so fast that there's a good chance I'll stumble anyway. Dangerous places, hallways.
He rushes past me towards the kitchen, fat glossy black cat with pendulous udder wobbling violently from side to side. He pauses a second while he makes sure I'm following then dashes into the laundry and almost slides to a stop in front of his crunchy bowl.
OH! There's already crunchies there.
SORRY ABOUT THAT. CRUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH.
Every. frickin. day. I'm. working. at. home. Plot? He's lost it.
11 comments:
I get that all the time. "But Muuummm, I want you here just in case the bowl is empty". They never, never check first. At least not when I'm looking. It's lucky they're fluffy and cute.
Madam has developed an attention-getting technique for when I am too deeply involved in the telly or a book and therefore not paying attention to her: she sits at my feet gazing longingly up at me and then rears up on her haunches like a meerkat and gives me a little pushy bump with both paws.
*clasps hands*
Oh! so cute!
Mr Pooter just knocks everything off the desk like Godzilla under you do something about whatever he wants. Well, that's my excuse for having such a messy space. Lucky they're not studio cats (although I have fantastised about trying it; everyone else brings their dogs).
I have one that sits on me first thing in the morning (usually while I'm still asleep). If that doesn't get my attention he starts the head rubbing on my arms. If that doesn't work, he bites me, just a gentle nip on whatver bit of exposed flesh he can find, which usually elicits "for fuck's sake cat, bugger off!" Then, when I finally do get up, he follows me everywhere, winding about my legs - into the toilet, down the hallway, into the laundry, back into the kitchen. He'll then leave me alone until evening when it all starts again.
yeah, studio cats is where it's at for sure!
how could a studio not have a cat? Though I guess if all the dogs are already there it gets problematic.
It's been about eight years since I last had a cat. We could really do with one again, I think.
Ivan (Ivy) used to like being hand fed so he would wail even when standing right next a bowl full of food. We learnt to make trails of individual crunchies rought across the kitchen. It meant we didn't have to wait for him to finish each one before feeding him another. I guess he just liked the attention. Or maybe it was the quid pro quo for letting us contort him into amusing shapes when he fell asleep on our laps during green wind TV.
Leonard from next door just does dances on the keyboard if I'm not paying enough attention. And photographs documents with her bottom.
I'm loving all these kitty stories. more! more!
ahhh you made me giggle!!
luckily i have cats well trained in this house, they never ask me for a thing ;) in fact our big boy cat is currently nagging dh for dinner right at this moment!
Since Harley (Strung) became only cat (after we lost two elderly cats last year......sniff!!) he has had a change of personality. He has become more like a dog in his behaviour towards us and constantly wants to be patted or scritched. He even laid on his back and purred and made bread in the air while getting his claws clipped, something that would have resulted in days of sulking in the other cats who regarded it as torture.
Fat Cassie-cat sits her big swaggy belly on the keyboard, or else lumps into the "lap" and starts kneading - with claws. Yowwie.
Then she does precisely as your Padge does, and carefully leads me to whichever part of the house holds the delight she's after. Laundry for crunchies ("yes, I know I have some there, but I want you to top it up with FRESH ONES NOW and to be stroked while I eat them kthnks"), kitchen for meat (and occasional milk - "clean saucer NOW!!!"), and sheepskin rugs for brushies ("PPPPPPLLLEEASSSE?????").
Recently I started vaccuuming her because brushing - which she adores to the point of obsession - just makes fur fly _everywhere_ and besides, the human hand isn't designed to brush a cat for hours on end. Never met a cat that tolerated actually being vaccuumed before. Maybe she's gone slightly deaf in her old age, or maybe our Shiny Noo Electrolux isn't as annoying as ordinary ones. (Clogs up the vents something chronic tho'!).
I vacuumed up her tail yesterday. That was FUN. I did get a slightly worried look when I went all the way to the base tho' :)
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