I visit with my cats several times a day. They demand. Scratches are required. I’m either going to give them, or I’m going to get them. I better do it right, too.
Tucker is the house alpha cat. A street rescue who was probably left behind when his people moved, he used to love fighting the other cats and imposing his will. Remembering this, they’re now wary of him in the same way that Americans are wary of Russians because they used to be the Soviets.
The Soviets would be a good name for a punk band.
Tucker has changed, though. The others don’t realize it. Tucker has come to understand that I disapprove of him stalking and ambushing the others, so he’s stopped. I know because I watch. The other cats don’t know he’s there. He gives them a look, but then I see him reining himself in.
The three boys are interesting regarding people. Whatever their pasts (all are rescues), Boo and Papi (aka Meep) want nothing to do with anyone except my wife and me. People come to the front door, they go out the pet door in the back. When a Zoom call takes place, those two shake their heads. “Nope. Too many people. I don’t know who they are, and I don’t want to find out.” Out they go. The fact they can’t see the people seems to make it worse.
“Invisible people,” they say. “Who needs that?”
Tucker, though, makes the rounds. “Hello, hi, hey, how you doing?” He joins the Zoom sessions like he’s been invited by name.
All three love it when a cupboard or closet door opens. Eyes on one another, they hurry over to peer in. “Is it Narnia? No? Where’s it go? Is there anything to eat?”
Although they love being my shadow (Tucker is right beside my laptop right now), they usually sleep through the day. They often change positions and locations. Being a doting floof father, I check on them. Sometimes their sleep seems so deep that I worry, “Are they alive?” I watch for breathing, then an ear moves, and I’m reassured. If I’m really worried, I open a can of food.
That always wakes them.
Tucker sounds like a pistol! Charlie, my feline attacked my neighbor the other day. Okay not attached, but he likes to pounce when he’s feeling all frisky-tailed. He hides, wiggles his butt, pounces, the give “ouchies” (tender bites) and runs away. She text me showing me the picture she took after he attacked her. She was joking about the attack part, but she said he’d never done that before. Only recently we found out the he goes over there to get fed and lay about under her porch with Suri her cat. I didn’t know that, the two-timing feline, but my neighbor looks out for him, and I do the same with her cat. Although Suri’s never come into my back yard and taken a sun bath under my porch. And I don’t feed her either, she’s picky, but apparently my fluff-butt doesn’t mind getting fed over there. That would explain his weight gain…lol
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Yes, Tucker has long fur, and a thick, long tail, and flows when he walks.
Charlie is a character, though, floof-timing on you like that. What a great personality!
When Tucker attacks, he gives no warning. He’s all, just do it. Since he no longer fights (much against his will and character), he’ll now emit a short, sharp, Mreow,” when another bothers him, and issues furious tail sweeps.
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I get worried too when my cats seem to be sleeping too deeply. It’s an awful feeling until you see that ear twitch.
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You know you’re right. It’s simultaneously despairing, a relief, and understandable that others experience this as my partner and I do.
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I do find it comforting that I’m not the only one. The cats, meanwhile, just wonder why we’re disturbing nap time.
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Yes, I find that befuddled, sleepy look endearing. “What’s going on? Why am I awake? Is it time to eat?”
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