The Watcher
My cat Deborah has been a bit of a grouch the last six months or so. Yes, she is a loving little cat who greets me fervently when I come home, but she has been increasingly standoffish and quick to take a swipe or hiss at me when I want some cuddle time (just saying hello sometimes results in a growl of warning). Yes, I’ve considered it might be related to some sort of chronic illness, something painful that is troubling her, but no. All indications appear that she is frustrated and bored lately.
My school program has me very busy, and when I am home I have a face in a book and tend to ignore her instead of play with her. She will get mad and give me little nibbles, or paw at me, trying to coax me into playing a game of string (enough with that stupid string already!). She plays a terrible game of sting by the way. I move it all around while she watches with rapt attention, but she never does anything except pounce every few minutes and hold onto the string. No kitten-like batting, just the single “delivery of death” where she mimics a neck bite on a small animal, holding her bite in place for a minute to be sure her victim is dead. I’m since hid the string (a week before finals).
However, I want my little cat to be happy, and by association, entertained. As a result, this spring I placed a bird feeder right outside her favorite spot (my desk which hosts her bed-basket). So she watches countless sparrows , finches, jays-even the occasional squirrel, with a chittering cat chatter and stalking cat moves. She must watch however, and the spectator role might be giving rise to another form of frustration. At present she loves the bird-feeder; it’s a big hit. The birds watch her, she watches them. The birds eat their fill, she… well she eats from her food bowl, but birds would be on the menu if she catch them. As a strictly indoor cat, I don’t rub the Audubon society the wrong way by letting my cat roam freely to kill and maim songbirds.
Pics to follow.