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their habits and their habitat
Sunday, 6 September 2015 11:44 amGosh, it's been two months or so since I became a two-cat person again, which to be honest I haven't been since... oooh, Masters year, back in Osborne Rd with Pixie and Polonius? Then there was Fish, and I was a one-cat person. Then there was Todal and Golux, and I was a joint multi-cat person. Funny how cats in batches of more-than-two goes by troll counting logic - one, two, lots. We accreted Ounce and Hobbit inevitably and without conscious choice. I only had a year of being one-cat with Hobbit, and it's weird how quickly it feels right and as if it's never been different, now that the house has feline patterns in ginger and black instead of just ginger.
They share my bed at night, although I tend to be a Swiss mountain range between them, and there are frequently rather amusing episodes of cat chess during which they edge independently onto the bed by circuitous routes while exchanging meaningful looks. I did a Sunday morning lie-in drinking tea and reading fanfic recently, and ended up with one cat on either side of my torso, heads on my shoulders, purring loudly in perfectly-synchronised stereo. At least until my delighted giggling offended them both and they jumped off the bed. They've actually accepted each other very quickly - there are still moments of subdued hissing, but they're brief and rather perfunctory, and I catch them touching noses when they think I'm not looking. I should imagine that by next winter I should see spontaneous outbreaks of puddle-of-cat.
I feel the need to record for posterity Hobbit's new trick, which is a hitherto unsuspected tendency to leave the end of his tongue sticking out in a deeply ridiculous fashion.
He knows. Cats doing a hangdog look are perfectly absurd.
They share my bed at night, although I tend to be a Swiss mountain range between them, and there are frequently rather amusing episodes of cat chess during which they edge independently onto the bed by circuitous routes while exchanging meaningful looks. I did a Sunday morning lie-in drinking tea and reading fanfic recently, and ended up with one cat on either side of my torso, heads on my shoulders, purring loudly in perfectly-synchronised stereo. At least until my delighted giggling offended them both and they jumped off the bed. They've actually accepted each other very quickly - there are still moments of subdued hissing, but they're brief and rather perfunctory, and I catch them touching noses when they think I'm not looking. I should imagine that by next winter I should see spontaneous outbreaks of puddle-of-cat.
I feel the need to record for posterity Hobbit's new trick, which is a hitherto unsuspected tendency to leave the end of his tongue sticking out in a deeply ridiculous fashion.
He knows. Cats doing a hangdog look are perfectly absurd.
Subject line is T.S. Eliot's Practical Cats, more specifically the addressing of. Pandora, along the Hobbiton/Hobbitation/Hobbyah principle, has become Pandoracle, Pandorica, Pandable, and occasionally "aargh cat must you headbutt my tea?"
