Post 623: My cats lead a dog’s life.

If you read this blog regularly, you are familiar with my two cats, Andy and Dougy, and how they work hard to protect the place from crickets, spiders, and other intrusions from the outside. They are warriors!

Just this morning, while I sat on the edge of my bed, blankets over my lower half till I could make up my mind which way I wanted to go, back to bed or get up, Dougy noticed something of interest and pounced. Oops! It was my toes wiggling under the blankets! Maybe that wasn’t the best example.

Never mind!

What do the boys really do to earn their keep?

Dougy, watching birds at the feeder across the lane, assures birds don't try to fly through the window pane.

I interrupt Dougy, watching birds at the feeder across the lane. He assures birds don’t try to fly through the window pane.

Dougy, isn't that Andy's favorite spot? What if he sees you there?

Dougy, isn’t that Andy’s favorite spot? What if he sees you there?

"Did I just hear him in the other room?"

“Did I just hear him in the other room?”

Well, if you did, Dougy, it was because Andy was snoring in his sleep…!

Oh, did I wake you, Andy??

Oh, did I wake you, Andy??

"Rub my nose, human."

“Rub my nose, human. Then I’ll bite your hand.”

Yes, my cats lead a dog’s life!

 

30 thoughts on “Post 623: My cats lead a dog’s life.

    • Thank you, and a blessed Christmas to you and a productive new year in 2015, too! I’ve enjoyed your blog this year, and look forward to continuing to read it for your incisive and insightful look at events!

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  1. Purring does not always equal happiness. Purring is sometimes shown when a cat aches, when a cat want’s to comfort itself in a threatening situation – and my little one even sometimes purrs while playing when she is superexcited! And my big Tom does snore too!

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    • I learned about that when I discovered the neighbor’s tabby, Woody, emaciated and freezing on our patio one year. He clearly wasn’t in good shape and appeared to be in pain, yet he was purring. I wrapped him in an old sweater, put him in a cardboard box, and took him home. He survived, fortunately. It was instructive in another way. He and his sister Callie the calico were farm cats that lived in a garage with access to the outdoors. (Food, water, and warm beds were available in the garage.) The people who owned them might not see their cats for days at a time since both worked and both cats had their routines. The husband happened to be a veterinarian, which is why Woody survived. I think many people seeing him in the condition I found him on our patio would assume he couldn’t survive, and wouldn’t have helped him.

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      • It was dangerously close to his end. He did, in fact, die a couple years later from something else. Woody was a great big huggable cat, my first real exposure to how nice cats can be to have around. (He was really mean to his sister, who was much smaller. However, after he died, Callie started spending lots of time on the patio, and we became good buddies, too. She and I were roughly the same stage of life at that point, so respected each other’s sore bones!)

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