Caturday 1

The Caturday idea isn't original to me (and nothing ever is), for I have seen the idea for Caturday (on Saturday) elsewhere. But I thought that now that we have a cat (again) that I might (sometimes at least) post photos of her on Saturday. I mean Caturday. Feel free to join in.

These two photos are from this past week and taken minutes, or more likely seconds, apart. I converted the first one to straight black while I just partially desaturated  the second image for a subdued look.

Cat as Teacher and Director

I am quite used to Rocky, the cat, leading me to the kitchen multiple times daily. Except for first thing in the morning when he is on his quest for breakfast — tuna (shudder) — his heart's desire is a dish of cat milk. He meows, twists and turns, imploring me to follow. Which I do — obediently.

Yesterday, however, he led me through to the kitchen toward the back door. I both thought and said,"No way, Buster, you're not going out." But that wasn't his intent, for I was quite baffled when he sidled into the living room with more mewing, twisting, turning and imploring.

Frankly, I was flummoxed. What did the blasted feline want now?

Cuppa speculated that he might want me to sit down, so that he could sit on my lap.

I did. He did. Much contented purring ensued.

Whenever my hand would cease its caressing, I would be reminded of Cat's expectations, by a long-suffering stare: "Hey guy, I'm still here. Let's get with the program." And I do.

A Most Definite but Gentle Reminder

It happened just now (I am writing this on Friday evening to post on Saturday) for the second time ever. This time I got right up in expectation, and so did he. And we went downstairs together, and I poured some cat milk in a dish, and he received it contentedly because the universe was at that point unfolding precisely as it should.

I had been at my computer, just like the other time it happened. As I concentrated on reading a blog, I was distantly aware of the cat rubbing lovingly up against my foot. Well, he does that a lot, so I paid him no mind in my state of distraction. At most times, I would expect him to do what he does best and have a nap. However, this was a nine o'clock rubbing, just about the time that he might expect the nightly offering of cat milk before he and Cuppa and, sometimes but not often I so early, I settle down for the night.

After a few moments of this wonderful feline rubbing, the cat brought me sharply but also gently to the present with a little nip to my ankle. That's when I stood up expectantly in good humour, because it had happened once before, and even a moronic human such as I can be trained. I sauntered to the door of my den, and just as I expected, he pranced along, at first beside me and then ahead of me as I descended to the kitchen.

He was very patient whilst I ambled my clumsy, human form downstairs, found the appropriate dish, opened the fridge, poured the milk, returned the container to the fridge, and finally lowered the dish onto the floor.

Very patient. Good kitty.