I get up quite some time before Gerry, my husband. Never does a “routine” seem more important and pronounced than in the mornings. McDuff, our cat, greets me, out in the hallway, with head butts, and sometimes even a little meow.
When the coffee’s ready, I sit down here and write. First, as of late, my Morning Pages and then I start to think about a blog post for the day. That’s all fine and dandy. He, McDuff is alright with that and the three treats I gave him while waiting for the coffee.
However … should this procedure take a few minutes more than he’s used to, then the “terror” commences. First, subtly, by just sitting on the floor, looking at me intensely. That’s bad enough — that stare is piercing. Next step: one paw on the armrest of my chair, other paw touching my arm, ever so gingerly. He’s used to that that, normally, does the trick. In 99% of the cases, I just get up then. But yesterday, that wasn’t the case. I held out. I just said something to him, at the first paw treatment, and carried on with whatever I was doing.
Not good. Now the paw treatment + meow + stare began. That was the worst. It became increasingly intense. I just couldn’t stay focused any longer — I had to get off the chair and go on with the morning routine, which means feeding him the wet stuff.
I told Gerry, who was up by then, how hopeless it was to try and write something longer in the mornings, but he just said “Well … you wanted kids, so … ” 😽
We had shrimp salad for supper last night. Isn’t that just a great piece of information?! It’s getting to be hot and we wanted to eat something cold. I always keep a few bags of frozen shrimp in the freezer, in order to be prepared. Now; the intriguing part. As soon as I even touch one of those bags, McDuff comes running … even if he is in the far bedroom! If I open the freezer and take out something else in a plastic bag, he doesn’t react. I just can’t figure out how he can make the distinction between shrimp bag and other bag. I know their hearing is good, but still …
Yesterday was no exception, so he got his quota of shrimp. While I cut them up for him, he waits, and stretches up towards the kitchen counter with his front paws. I’m amazed how tall he gets.