Spoiled, not him?
Our Bootsie is a adored, and slightly spoiled cat and while I might kid my parents that it’s their Grand-kitty. I’m only half joking.
They adore him also, fat little fur ball that he is.
He is also a expert at getting what he wants, demanding those 5 am feedings, multiple times a day.
Life for the Boo goes from meal to meal.
Dinner is the hardest one to deal with, and he knows instinctively that when our guards are down we will pretty much do anything to get him out from under our feet.
The meowing reaches a crescendo right when our reserves are low, when the pot is bubbling over, or the pan is burning… his timing is impeccable.
Don’t shake your head at him, it’s us, we spoilt him when he first decided to adopt us, because he would get so sick he nearly died a few times… life is short, feed them well, and love them deeply was our motto.
Well, we might have fed him a bit too well in the beginning, and now we struggle to cut him back.
He demands his food right at 5 pm, when I start to make dinner, leaves and comes back again when we eat.
It was driving me batty, just as we sat down, he would return to beg, and he knows he doesn’t get fed again after his dinner.
No scraps snuck under the table, not a tidbit went to him, until after dinner, and then maybe a touch of chicken.
I know, bad kitty people.
The “cat” garden, and the “bird” garden border the corner back of our yard, named after the cat sculpture, and the wild quail that like to gather there every night and feast on the bird seed during the cooler days.
Bootsie loves watching the birds, and usually is content quietly laying on the back porch,but when baby quail time hatches, it’s difficult to keep him away from the feathered frolickers.
We chase him away from the bird garden until the babies have grown up, until summer when the birds visit rarely, then we let him have the run of the back yard.
When I found him hanging out on the edge of the bird garden a few months ago, I was worried that the quail were quivering in the bushes, hiding from him fearing for their lives.
Until one day when I was checking up on the Boo who hadn’t been seen for ages, something grey, small, sleek and furry ran past my feet.
Eek mice! And judging by the scurrying noises, a lot of eeeekkk mice. Ugh.
I’m not a fan of anything that scurries… and yes I know that mice need to live also… maybe they could go and set up house somewhere else.
Like a few doors down where the chickens are. Or maybe at the neighbours under their shed, like they have done for years.
There is a good side to all this, Bootsie is so fascinated by the skittering, scurrying, scuttling, noises that they make while scooting over the dried leaves under the bushes… it’s like MTV for kitties.
Mouse Television.
And guess when the best programs are on?
Yes, right during our dinner time.
Life is great isn’t it?
Bootsie’s perched in front of the Moob tube all evening… and we get to eat dinner in peace.
In fact we have to practically drag him in at night… he is so interesting in watching them.
I just hope that the summer programs last a bit longer, I’m really starting to enjoy our quiet dinners without all the meowing.
Thank you to everyone who have left such wonderfully supportive comments, and emails, about the recent post on my Dad. Your words are enlightening, heartening, and sustaining my faith in better days to come. I’m still reading the comments slowly, taking my time — it’s heartbreaking to realize that this is happening to so many other people also, and to be honest it make me cry when I read them.
But tears are good, trust me.
It’s been 3 days now, and things are improving, he is settling in, and the cat that resides in the home has come and staked out her territory in his room.
His chair, his bed, and the top of his dresser… we both love cats, and are absolutely charmed by her behaviour.
This makes it so much easier for all of us, and I think I even saw a smile the other day.
It was from him.
Jane
