Little Cat is turning into the feline dictator. She’s got behaviour modification down to a fine art. Not me influencing her to change her behaviour, but vice versa. My cat owns me. To say different is just denial.
It started after Orange Cat left. We bought her toys because we were keeping the cat flap closed. It took her a few days to realise these were her toys, that no other cats were getting a sniff in. And then she started with the jumping around and sitting pointedly near the toys and meowing and general carry on every time I went up the stairs. Every single time. She became an intentional noisy mobile furry safety hazard.
And if it wasn’t the playing with the toys, it was a drink from a dripping tap, or sitting on my lap while I worked at the computer (I don’t mind that one so much – she’s warm and cuddly and her purrs are an excellent writing soundtrack. Except when she sticks her claws into me). If she wasn’t asleep somewhere, she would be sitting at the top of the stairs waiting to make her demands every time I wondered up there.
But don’t worry. I got my revenge.
I put pictures of her on Instagram.
If you want to see the pictures of Little Cat on Instagram, follow roxnicholl. You will also see shots of crochet, but what can I say – I’m not a one-trick pony.