Still hanging out with the cats. It’s a lot easier for me to sit on the couch and take pictures of them than to hide out in my room and knit while they cry at the door. That’s what I tried to do yesterday – I came home from work, stretched and took the bike out for an almost-ten mile ride (woo!), showered and made dinner (fried egg on a waffle, peanut butter cookie, glass of scotch), and then shut myself in my room and felt guilty about it, so I kept going out to pet them and got only a few rows of knitting in. I have a hard time resisting their pleas for attention:
*scratch scratch scratch*
*paw thrust under the door*
Floyd: Mrow? Now? Mrrrt-owwwow. Mew-ew?
Kipling: Roo? Rr rr ook ook. Rrroo?
Floyd really hates having his picture taken for some reason. Either that, or he just likes to be a jerk. He’ll hold still while I get the camera up and in focus, and turn his head at just the right moment. I’ve even turned off the shutter sounds, so I have no idea how he knows exactly when to turn away. Three dozen attempts or more, and I only ended up with a few usable pictures. Perhaps a faster camera would help… but I was able to catch this shot of him when he came out of hiding to see what was going on.
Kipling, on the other hand, is getting more and more lovey. Here he’s wedged himself in between my leg and the couch pillow, and when I reached down to pet him he squirmed around until he was on his back, paddling his paws in the air, wriggling in purrful delight at the attention. This is how we manage to keep his claws trimmed – when he gets in a bellyrub kind of mood, one of us will keep scritching and the other will catch a paw and do the trimming. He barely notices! Floyd is resigned to letting us do whatever we want to him, but Kipling isn’t nearly as malleable.
They are both talkative cats, Floyd more so than Kipling, but at least Floyd knows how to meow. Kipling sounds a lot like a little monkey sometimes. “Ook ook, roo?” The closest he seems to get to “meow” is a demanding raspy bark for his food dish…