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My daughter and her cat Stella have been gone for a few months now. Kitty drama has settled down somewhat: Sydney hates Blackie, but she has managed not to charge him more than a couple of times. It helps that we try to maintain at least two feet of separation at all times. A door works well, too. Continue reading “Feline update”
Sydney and Hobbes sort of have an agreement: Sydney catches ’em, Hobbes eats ’em. Looks here like Sydney’s rethinking that agreement, or at least is making sure Hobbes knows just which of them is the Mighty Hunter.
I much prefer for Hobbes to do the eating; that cat has a cast-iron stomach. Sydney doesn’t — bird, rat hindquarters, whatever gets upchucked, and she has no shame about depositing it on my office floor. You cannot believe how disgusting it is to clean up bloody cat barf that’s still warm.
Hobbes used to be our scaredy-cat. She puts on a good show of being terrified still, but if she were really scared she’d do her rabbit gallop away from us, not practically over our feet.
When we first got her as a kitten in 1991, she was far more timid than she is now. My daughter admitted a few years ago — after she’d left for college — that maybe the kids’ playing doctor on Hobbes made her so fearful. Geez, who woulda thought?
