She’s a little miffed today. She’s getting the bad habit of climbing onto my computer keyboard and parading there, insisting on attention, naturally while I’m trying to use the computer. So I’ve said, “No,” to her a few times yesterday and today.
She understands the word perfectly well, and has for as long as I’ve had her. The very first time I said it to her, she instantly jumped off the kitchen table; that was soon after I got her. Not that she hears it very often! In fact it’s easy to spoil her, because she doesn’t seem to have many bad habits about food, my food that is. It mostly doesn’t interest her.
But my computer keyboard? Yes, that interests her all right.
She caught a mouse yesterday and brought it to me; I think what she wanted was to carry it into the house, where she could play with it at leisure. If she was a game-dog, people would say she has a soft mouth, because she didn’t hurt the mouse – that’s if you don’t count damp mouse-fur and terror. She dropped it, and it hunkered down and trembled. She let it run off, and grabbed it again and trotted back toward the house door. Naturally I wasn’t about to open the door for her. Mice are vermin and deserve to die – this is what I know from experience. What a nest of mice inside a building can become is almost beyond imagination, unless you’ve seen an infestation of the nasty little things. They stink so you can tell they’re present just by the smell. They multiply geometrically. Hundreds of mice in no time at all, chewing into everything. Ugh.
Mice are also cute, like tiny living toys that run along the floor. My cat put hers down again, and let it run off with its tail sticking up and out.
This is how you get a cat to release its prey: ignore the prey, but give the cat lots of praise and petting. Then while it’s distracted, whatever it caught gets away. I was of two minds about the mouse – yes, vermin, but cute as a wind-up toy – but I waited, and sure enough Greymouse lost interest and let it run under a flower-pot. It vanished. About half a minute later, she noticed and pounced at something in that direction, then pursued it into the neighbour’s yard. I believe it got away.
It’s amazing how fond she is of climbing onto my keyboard, and then crouching there with back arched, which is to say: “Stop doing that! And pat me.”
Maybe that’s not so amazing.
… she is currently sprawled on my knee, limp. She’s been outside and run around, came back in and chased her fluffy ball, and now it’s time to sleep. If I toss her fluffy ball high, she can leap straight up and catch it between her forepaws. I can totally see her leaping for a bird in the same way.
… I woke up this morning and looked around for her, because she wasn’t in her usual place (running into kitchen ahead of me, yelling for food). She was in the laundry hamper. She’d pried the lid open, thrown out some clothes, and climbed in to curl up in comfort.
Today, outside, she caught the eye of another cat. I heard her hiss, looked up and saw her pointing herself toward an Enemy, looked in that direction and there it was. A big fat black cat, frozen. Greymouse screamed faintly several times, and then the Enemy turned with immense dignity, waited long enough to make it obvious it wasn’t retreating–no, no, it must have seen something more interesting in the distance, opposite direction–and retreated. Then Greymouse came indoors quite happily and demanded treats and Fancy Feast.
… currently sprawled across my lap.
State of the human: it’s now blindingly obvious that I won’t get any of my own writing done until I’ve finished the last book of the Chathrand Voyage, so I’m taking the evening off. I only have a few hundred pages left. I can get them read before bedtime.