Not too long ago, as you may remember, I posted a picture of myself in my new digs i.e. a lovely cardboard box that Miss R. brought home from her shopping expedition at Sam's Club. The box proved the perfect size for a cat of my, ummmm, shall we say, impressive girth? I don't know what it is about us felines that makes boxes seem so inviting. We just can't resist the allure of their straight sides and perpendicular angles. No doubt, they appeal to these mathematically-inclined brains of ours. At any rate, Miss R., sensing my affinity for this new possession, graciously added a squishy cushion for my comfort. She even placed the box in a prominent spot in the living room right next to the television. For weeks, I would sleep no where else. Then because I like to keep things fresh and because I like to keep Miss R. guessing, I began finding other places to sleep; in the closet, under the bed, on top of her running shoes. I knew what would happen next. Miss R. would wait awhile and then when she believed I was no longer interested in the box she would try to remove it to the recycling bin. The day came. I saw her move the box near the front door.
Any minute I told myself as she slid open the hall closet door to retrieve her shoes. Just as she finished tying her second shoe I hopped into the box and stretched and yawned and blinked my eyes in her direction. (I know she can't resist that.) "You've got be kidding me!" she said. "For three weeks you've completely ignored that box like it wasn't even here all the while it was taking up precious space in our tiny living room and now you want it again? Seriously?" I heard her sigh as she walked away leaving me in the box. I napped awhile just to show her serious I was and when I knew the box was no longer in danger of being tossed I hopped out of it and wandered over to my food dish. Miss R. sighed again as she picked up the box and moved it away from the front door into her own bedroom where she placed it at the foot of her bed. I'll sleep there again for awhile before I replay this whole scenario.
This brings me to my next lesson in the care and training of your human. Humans like to think they own the place. They like to feel like they are the ones who make decisions and we are here merely to keep them entertained. Perish the thought. They are here to keep our food dishes full, to keep our tummies scratched, and to keep our spots on the couch warm. We are the ones in command. It is imperative that we remind these forgetful humans of that fact. That's why it's important that we periodically mess with their heads. You know what I mean. Wait for you human to get comfy on the couch and then pretend to want to go outside. Meow by the door. Then as soon as your human as gotten up from the couch to open the door for you, walk away and try to take the warm spot on the couch. You can vary this method by begging to sample a bite of whatever it is they're eating then, as soon as they've grown weary of your whining and placed a tidbit of their food on the floor, turn your nose up at it and walk away with your tail up in the air. Your imagination is the only limit you have on coming up with ways to mess with your human's head, but trust me. This is an important element in training your human to be appropriately subservient to you. In the meantime, I'd love to hear from you. What other mess-with-your-head methods can you recommend for our readers? I look forward to your responses.
Posts
Not too long ago, as you may remember, I posted a picture of myself in my new digs i.e. a lovely cardboard box that Miss R. brought home from her shopping expedition at Sam's Club. The box proved the perfect size for a cat of my, ummmm, shall we say, impressive girth? I don't know what it is about us felines that makes boxes seem so inviting. We just can't resist the allure of their straight sides and perpendicular angles. No doubt, they appeal to these mathematically-inclined brains of ours. At any rate, Miss R., sensing my affinity for this new possession, graciously added a squishy cushion for my comfort. She even placed the box in a prominent spot in the living room right next to the television. For weeks, I would sleep no where else. Then because I like to keep things fresh and because I like to keep Miss R. guessing, I began finding other places to sleep; in the closet, under the bed, on top of her running shoes. I knew what would happen next. Miss R. would wait awhile and then when she believed I was no longer interested in the box she would try to remove it to the recycling bin. The day came. I saw her move the box near the front door. Any minute I told myself as she slid open the hall closet door to retrieve her shoes. Just as she finished tying her second shoe I hopped into the box and stretched and yawned and blinked my eyes in her direction. (I know she can't resist that.) "You've got be kidding me!" she said. "For three weeks you've completely ignored that box like it wasn't even here all the while it was taking up precious space in our tiny living room and now you want it again? Seriously?" I heard her sigh as she walked away leaving me in the box. I napped awhile just to show her serious I was and when I knew the box was no longer in danger of being tossed I hopped out of it and wandered over to my food dish. Miss R. sighed again as she picked up the box and moved it away from the front door into her own bedroom where she placed it at the foot of her bed. I'll sleep there again for awhile before I replay this whole scenario.
Finally, my great contributions to the world in general, and to felines in particular have been duly recognized, as they should be, with a statue of yours truly. Indeed, like the ancient greek heroes, I have been memorialized in stone (OK, ceramic, but that's practically the same thing) by a truly gifted artist. AC #5, in Miss R.'s class created this likeness of me and as you can see, he has done a masterful job of capturing my handsomeness. My neighbor Bob says handsomeness isn't even a word, but what does he know? It's not like anyone created a statue of him! Hah!
