Taz
Not everyone is good with animals. I think this is mostly because people underestimate an animal’s level of intelligence. When I met Taz she was curled up on her corner of the couch dutifully marked by a draped shawl. Taz was an overfed Chinchilla with a regal, self-assured air. I astonished the owner when I received affectionate licks on my hand from her almost immediately. There’s a sad fact about cats which I try not to reveal to their owners out of sympathy for their feelings. A cat has no emotional attachment to their owners. When they go on holiday there is no pining, no desperate longing and certainly no lost sleep or appetite in their owner’s absence. They might be disconcerted for a little while but don’t be fooled. This mild level of stress is akin to realising that your mail now arrives in the afternoon when it used to arrive in the morning. Cats will wonder why they weren’t informed of the change. They will wonder if my presence will be detrimental to their daily routine but after a couple of days when they realise it interferes little with their lives they return to their higher state of contentment with ease.
It took all of five minutes for Taz to take charge. On my first night I was watching tv when I heard a commanding meow. I got up to find her sitting in the doorway with an expectant gaze. After brushing my teeth I went to bed and she curled up with me. It was bedtime.
On another night Taz demanded a late-night snack. "No. You're fat." I retorted. Looking at me and my mostly empty packet of after-dinner mints with a look of incredulous horror she stalked off. A minute later she limped past the couch. "Oh, come on." I said at first but then I had second thoughts. She was an older cat after all. Perhaps she was having an attack of arthritis. She asked for food once more and I complied. A few minutes later she was leaping around the kitchen trying to bring down a moth. The limp had been miraculously cured with a handful of cat biscuits.
Its impossible to stay mad at something so cute (and conniving).
It took all of five minutes for Taz to take charge. On my first night I was watching tv when I heard a commanding meow. I got up to find her sitting in the doorway with an expectant gaze. After brushing my teeth I went to bed and she curled up with me. It was bedtime.
On another night Taz demanded a late-night snack. "No. You're fat." I retorted. Looking at me and my mostly empty packet of after-dinner mints with a look of incredulous horror she stalked off. A minute later she limped past the couch. "Oh, come on." I said at first but then I had second thoughts. She was an older cat after all. Perhaps she was having an attack of arthritis. She asked for food once more and I complied. A few minutes later she was leaping around the kitchen trying to bring down a moth. The limp had been miraculously cured with a handful of cat biscuits.
Its impossible to stay mad at something so cute (and conniving).
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