The post-pandemic life has some surprising advantages. I’ve slowed down and change into extra observant of my setting. I’ve by no means observed earlier than, nevertheless it’s just like the tree and grass commerce locations of colour from inexperienced to brown because the seasons change from fall to winter. Go exterior and go searching.
The pandemic tempo has lingered into on a regular basis life: slowed just like the infinite purring of a lap cat; petting classes now as common as three-square meals every day; plus, snacks; which leads us into this month’s celebration of pets.
Our cats. I’ve gotten to know their habits, alternative areas all through the day, their ruminations a revelation! Muffins is chill, however she’s my companion’s cat. Mo is my buddy. To paraphrase the late nice Tommy Smothers, “Father liked one cat the best.” Mo follows me round like a canine. Great listener. Waits for me on the door once I’m gone. He’s on Meow Patrol. All all through the day, I’ll decide him up, rub his stomach scratch underneath his chin as he purrs away my pre-to- publish pandemic angst (am I the one one unofficially or formally recognized with that?).
I’ve lately been in a position to decipher his kitty language in methods no different human has ever achieved. Like a Cold War spy infiltrating the mysterious world of feline intentions: I’m The Champion Cat Whisperer.
“Jeez, gimme a break…he just wants food or attention. You need to get out more,” my spouse states after I level out a specific ‘meow-ow-ow.’
“He wants his blanket smoothed over. Watch.”
Mo sits on the sting of the sofa as I straighten out and fold his favourite blanket into a pleasant neat sq.. He proceeds to plop himself down with a happy purr, tail wrapped neatly round his torso.
“Notice the tail talk. He’s content now.”
“Oh brother! You can’t manage to make up our bed in the morning but the cat gets a fold down on his blanket at a moment’s notice…you sure that winery doesn’t need your help in the tasting room part time?” The smile, the look, I get it. Maybe I ought to take up golf.
“Seriously… while I’m at work, how often do you do this?” she asks. I debate altering the topic.
“Well…I…um…whenever I hear the ‘meow-ow-ow’.”
“Meow-meow-weooow-weooow,” Mo patiently waits on the meals bowl with a brand new vocalization.
“What’s he saying now?” she asks, her voice a resigned sigh of ‘whatever.’
“Well, he likes to have fresh water before the wet food dinner. Usually, I do this before you get home from work…”
“I’ll have to pay more attention to Mo’s vocalizations. Maybe figure out a way to interpret his meow before he brings those baby moles home.”
If a cat meows in the home and nobody hears it, does it make a sound? Yes, I really feel the vibration regardless of the place I’m. As our good friend Gina says, “It’s not A cat, it’s MY cat.”
I proceed to make cautious notes of my feline observations and can duly report my findings to the National Feline Association of Cat-Trained Owners shortly.
