Scooter: Why have you done this??
Me: Done what??
Scooter: You know...the big move...leaving hearth and home...
Me: Moving has your feathers ruffled??
Scooter: I don't have feathers.
Me: It's a figure of speech.
Scooter: Is that comment about my weight?? Look, I run and run...it's my metabolism I tell ya...
Me: You're changing the subject. Why don't you want to talk about the move??
Scooter: I'm traumatized.
Me: It hasn't hurt your sleeping habits.
Scooter: Stress will do that to a body.
Me: Scooter we moved because we needed more room.
Scooter: All we really needed was room for the litter box and a bit of space so that I could chase Cricket.
Me:
Scooter: Whaaa?? What did I say??
Me: I thought you two had resolved all of your differences.
Scooter: We have. We've decided that it's better if we suffer together. Misery likes company.
Me: You would be Misery, I presume??
Scooter: Uh, yeah, I guess so.
Me: So you don't like the house??
Scooter: I'm not saying that.
Me: So then Cricket doesn't like the house??
Scooter: I'm not saying that either.
Me: What are you saying??
Scooter: Uh...just that I don't want you to think that I'm getting nice in my old age.
Me: I could never think that.
Scooter: I think I'll go blap now...there are so many new rooms to try out.
Me: You're a nasty cat...just make sure that these habits don't rub off on Cricket.
Scooter: She just blapped in the hallway. Heh heh heh.
Little Miss Blap Herself
Cats are such interesting little people। They can be your best friend (on their terms, of course) and your worst enemy. Sometimes all of this happens within the course of 15 minutes.
Scooter likes nothing more in this life but to suffer. He excels at suffering. When we're eating...he rolls on his side to look like he's in his death throws...and presumably a small (or not so small) morsel will give him strength and reason to live.
He knows how to "work the crowd too. Erik gets the "I'm dying now...please drop it as soon as you can...and do you want to see me beg" routine.
I usually get "the look". I swear this cat knows that I can't handle that look he gives me.
Now before I get hoards of mail telling me how dangerous it is to give a cat table food...let me assure you we're not feeding him chili or any other combustible. (Heaven spare us from such a day!!)
Cricket on the other hand has no interest in begging for food. She's quite content with her Feline Greenies. It's not that Scooter isn't content with them...the fact is...he's content with everything food-wise.
Dinnertime...the cats' dinnertime usually goes something like this। Two bowls are filled...one for Scooter...one for Cricket.
The bowls are given out...and the grazing commences. Scooter will eat out of his bowl until Cricket is done...at which time, he finishes off her food and then comes back to his own. (Again...no letters...we've tried everything and this seems to work for both of them.)
So, there you have it। We've moved. Somehow the cats found out about it and followed us here. They're already as happy as toads (how do we know that toads are happy??) and all is right with the world...our little corner of it anyhow.
Shelley
