He's living with me now, hiding in the hall bathroom, IN the litterbox. Yes, his bed is in the bathroom; he is ignoring it in favor of the box. He did venture out and look out the kitchen window, but decided he wanted nothing to do with it and returned to the litterbox. I want to show him the balcony, but don't particularly want to be clawed half to death, so I'm waiting until he's a wee bit more relaxed. The old boy may be old, but he still has some fight in him and he has never appreciated being picked up - by this I mean he will cut you if you try it, bitch.
I am enjoying the balcony. I like watching the sun rise with my morning coffee.
Sophie loves combining her two favorite pastimes: watching squirrels and sleeping in sunbeams.
I'm trying to break her of barking at golfers, but she feels they are in her backyard disturbing her squirrels, and she tells them off. She's not very loud and fortunately we are not close enough to the green to ruin too many putts. She's hardly the only barking dog on this golf course, which winds through the neighborhood, so people are used to it. I'm still trying to work on her golf manners.
Higgins would enjoy the balcony, if I could get him out of the damn litterbox. I've tried catnip, cat treats, coaxing - he did come out to walk around the living room a bit last night, but retreated to his safe spot.
Silly old cat.
I wonder if the old bloke has dementia? Some of his behaviour sounds like it to me, and I have nursed a couple of very old cats to their end.
ReplyDeleteIn the last months of her life, Vegemite used to crouch, head down, in a corner in the kitchen so regularly that I left a thick folded towel there for her ancient bones. And she never had to deal with relocation as an old cat, she was only six when we moved to this house.
Sophie is perfectly right, such silly people, playing such a silly game and disrupting her squirrel observations.
Gae, in Callala Bay