a cat-lady moment
I call Peter, my foster cat, the quaalude kitty. He doesn't sleep any more than other cats, but even when he's awake, he's generally lounging, grooming, eating, or walking between those three activities. Well, not so much walking as sauntering; he's pretty much never in a hurry. Just now, however, he was such a perfect storm of insanity that I think I cracked a rib trying not to howl with laughter in the middle of it, so he'd keep going.
He's lying in the middle of the floor, doing this bobble-head thing that I've only seen in orange cats, and also whipping his head around as if his back itched. He leaps to his feet and hops into his favorite box, then flattens out on his belly, head sticking up, ears back. Chess catches his eye as she crosses the room, and he has a history of playing with/preying upon her - where by history, I mean twice in the four months I've had him, but that's also how often I've seen him go barking moon-bat crazy - and he's way too rough for her, which is kinda impressive, because she always liked to leap on Butler. So I quickly grab a toy off the floor to distract him, hold it over his head and then toss it in the box. He does the bobble-head thing, flips around on his back... and looks at me in puzzlement, because he's now lying on the toy and doesn't know where it went. I retrieve it and toss it again. It lands in his exposed belly. He looks down, lolls his head around in a circle like someone cracking their neck, flails a paw, but can't seem to figure out how to get to it. I try tossing it outside the box, then holding it over his head; he wants to play, but he seems completely bewildered. Well, at least he didn't chase after Chess, so I give up and stand.
Oh, wait: there's a fur mousie by the door. I get and and hold it by the tail above him. Nothing. I toss it about ten feet away into the hall. He glances its way, but that's it. I sit down on the couch, expecting him to come jump up on his favorite spot on the back and be petted, and he's looking at me, contemplating, poised to stand. Suddenly his head jerks, and he's peering down the hall. Despite the mousie presumably not moving for a good minute and a half, all of a sudden, he notices it. Bobblehead, ears, back, then flinging himself out of the box. Not up and over the edge or anything, so the box kinda stays under him for two feet, but then he clears it, hurls himself down the hall, becomes an entire hockey team, and scores a goal under the living room closet door. He grabs frantically under the door, about 8 pokes in less than a second, and then flees in terror back down the hall and into the bedroom.
And that's all. He's done, goes to take a nap on the cat structure. Tune in next month for the next play session.
Originally posted at http://violetcheetah.dreamwidth.org/54320.html. Feel free to comment there
comments
He's lying in the middle of the floor, doing this bobble-head thing that I've only seen in orange cats, and also whipping his head around as if his back itched. He leaps to his feet and hops into his favorite box, then flattens out on his belly, head sticking up, ears back. Chess catches his eye as she crosses the room, and he has a history of playing with/preying upon her - where by history, I mean twice in the four months I've had him, but that's also how often I've seen him go barking moon-bat crazy - and he's way too rough for her, which is kinda impressive, because she always liked to leap on Butler. So I quickly grab a toy off the floor to distract him, hold it over his head and then toss it in the box. He does the bobble-head thing, flips around on his back... and looks at me in puzzlement, because he's now lying on the toy and doesn't know where it went. I retrieve it and toss it again. It lands in his exposed belly. He looks down, lolls his head around in a circle like someone cracking their neck, flails a paw, but can't seem to figure out how to get to it. I try tossing it outside the box, then holding it over his head; he wants to play, but he seems completely bewildered. Well, at least he didn't chase after Chess, so I give up and stand.
Oh, wait: there's a fur mousie by the door. I get and and hold it by the tail above him. Nothing. I toss it about ten feet away into the hall. He glances its way, but that's it. I sit down on the couch, expecting him to come jump up on his favorite spot on the back and be petted, and he's looking at me, contemplating, poised to stand. Suddenly his head jerks, and he's peering down the hall. Despite the mousie presumably not moving for a good minute and a half, all of a sudden, he notices it. Bobblehead, ears, back, then flinging himself out of the box. Not up and over the edge or anything, so the box kinda stays under him for two feet, but then he clears it, hurls himself down the hall, becomes an entire hockey team, and scores a goal under the living room closet door. He grabs frantically under the door, about 8 pokes in less than a second, and then flees in terror back down the hall and into the bedroom.
And that's all. He's done, goes to take a nap on the cat structure. Tune in next month for the next play session.
Originally posted at http://violetcheetah.dreamwidth.org/54320.html. Feel free to comment there
comments