It is yet another cold, snowy, miserable day here today, which is not surprising seeing as it is February in Canada. (Those of you expecting Maui-like conditions will be severely disappointed.)
Toby does not like the snow or the cold; he is a strictly fair-weather feline. (When he does go out, he does the most amazing, physics-defying manoever, whereby his front half is coming back in the door before his back half has completed the transaction.)
He's getting a bit of cabin fever, being indoors so much, and I am beginning to get a weensy bit concerned about his mental health. I try to help, I really do, but there is only so much changing of the bed sheets I'm willing to do.
Toby's main coping strategies at the moment are the following:
1. Batting at my fingers while I am typing.
2. Looking for spiders.
3. Waiting for me. Just....waiting. For me. Whatever I am doing, Toby is sitting nearby, staring at me, willing me to do something interesting.
4. Flinging cat litter as far as possible out of the box.
5. Chasing his tail in the shower-stall in the en-suite. I'm not sure why this the optimum site for this activity, other than the fact that his head makes a very loud, satisifying bonk when it hits the side.
6. Begging for tuna.
7. Finding new places to sleep, and scaring the daylights out of me when he tumbles out of the linen closet.
8. Going to the back door and pleading to be let out. When that is deeply disappointing, go to the front door, in the hopes that it is Florida out there.
9. Smelling boots. Usually with a dedication to detail that would be admirable if it was applied to anything other than, you know, smelling boots.
10. Sitting in boxes. (see picture.)
There's still a lot of winter to be got through.
1 comment:
I think I will find a box of my own, this cat is inspiring me ...
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