Still A Dreamer

Now tell me … is the sun really all that much better under the dining room chair?

One of the things we love about dogs is that they are straightforward. Pretty much what you see is what you get. But cats? they trump most animals in the category of inscrutable, the kings and queens of unfathomable motives. With a wide swath of carpet bathed in sunlight this morning, Claude chose to slink himself in between the chair rails and sat there for quite some time. After a bit, he curled up in that spot and fell asleep.

Of course, when he’s a wide open book is when he hears the electronic ignition of the gas stove click because that means cat food might be warming up. In this case, it’s a small breakfast for one of my neighbor’s cats whose day is not started without breakfast chez Jeanne. I also ponder … why, when Claude, for whatever reason, feels a need to throw up, must he make a mad dash to do so on the upstairs wall-to-wall carpeting? Is throwing up anywhere where I could easily clean it up never part of the equation?

Why has drinking water become an occasion for caterwauling at any time of day or night? OK – I might cut him a little slack on this one because he is in the beginning stages of kidney failure, and maybe his kidneys are aching for water? Sounds good, but I doubt it. When I lean down the stairs with a very loud SSSHHHHhhhhhhh! he stops immediately, as if Cher herself, a la Moonstruck, just slapped him and said “Snap out of it!”  My alternative theory is senility. But again … it may just be one of those things that cats do for reasons even they can’t fathom. Lucky for him, he has many other redeeming qualities including being cute as a button.

Now Gypsy Rose never shows her hand in the slightest bit. Whatever she’s thinking? You don’t know until she acts, like when, out of the blue, she just smacks Claude for apparently nothing. And then walks away.

So while he’s being silly under the dining room chair, she simply looks at him with disdain then returns her gaze to her kingdom, (queendom?), on the other side of the window. She has bigger fish to fry, like making our world safe from renegade cats that might walk across the porch. Lucky for them they’re beyond her reach.