It's well after midnight, and I am unable to go to bed. And why? Because a certain boy is OUT. Out on the tiles, or walls, or dustbins, having too much fun to come home. So I'm waiting up (3rd time this week). Something I haven't done since the Lovely Son was a teenager. I have turned right back into being an Over-Anxious Mother.....
Scooter has discovered the yard walls, and that walking cautiously along them will take you into other people's yards. He thinks this is particularly exciting when everyone has gone to bed, so that he is less likely to be terrorised by the sight of a human, or the sound of a door opening.
It's a brave new world for him out there, and brave new behaviour too. Just a pity that it's a late night activity.... I want to know that they're all safely indoors, and that the cat flap is locked.
But he's very good at ignoring the sound of his name being called....
On the other hand, and at the other end of the scaredy-scale, Hamish is struggling to cope with the new position of his dish. I'll spare you the long and boring story of how he still can't eat with the others or indeed in the same place as the others, well out of the dog's reach, but each incremental stage takes him days and considerable hunger before he will accept it.
He hasn't eaten today because his dish has been moved one step up on the step-stool in the back kitchen; I suspect he will have to wait till everyone has gone to bed before he dares to climb up. It may take a week or two (or five) before he is accustomed to the change. Good thing that he's plump and healthy and can live on his reserves.
These two once-feral kittens are amazingly slow to adapt to domestic life. Everything scares them, and each step forward can be undone in a second - acceptance of being stroked, taking a titbit from my fingers, being passed on the landing - all these can revert at dizzying speed to being terrifying and impossible situations, causing them to flee and hide. I sometimes wonder how well and for how long they would have survived in the woods without their mothers.
There are some big mean cats out at night. I want my big fat sissy Scooter to come home, and I want to go to bed!
4 comments:
I know what you mean when you say that you worry when they are out at night - one of mine does the same on these hot nights full of the scent of catmint & fluttery moths to chase.
Can you bring teatime forward so that come bed time he is very hungry & will come running in for his supper?
They do lead us a dance don't they?
Our latest cat event is that Em has become terrified of the sound of a new pair of indoor crocs that squeak! Aren't cats supposed to like things that squeak? She hates loud noises..helicopters, vacuum cleaners and now crocs!
"Scooter and Hamish would be thrilled to start emailing..."
Clearly not! One would rather go night-stalking and one is waiting for dinner!
But I do know how you feel about the Scooter-man going awol. We must all be hard-wired to worry.
Once Scooter has experienced the big bad world, he'll come to appreciate how good he has it and never stray from home again! (Well, it's a comforting thought, at least...)
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