The chubby fucker wanted crickets. His lizard was hungry because it probably hadn't been fed in a few days. Lizards can go a few days without really eating. He, the Panamanian raisin, and I went to PetSmart to buy a bag of jumping insects.
We didn't get the crickets. I bought a kitten instead.
Hamlet is black with white paws and a white chin. His white patch goes up his face asymmetrically, with one side higher than the other. He likes to play with my hair ties and the plastic Xs that came with his litter box. He hasn't learned to jump very well yet, but he can get up anything he can dig his claws into. The bed is simple; the wooden table is impossible. For now.
A few days ago he discovered his reflection in the window. He pawed at the reflection kitten. The reflection kitten pawed back. This surprised him so much that he jumped backward off the window sill and into a box of items I still hadn't unpacked. I wondered briefly if he was hurt, and then he leapt out of the box and back onto the window sill. The reflection kitten was still there. Hamlet meowed. Reflection kitten meowed back. Hamlet fell backward into the box, surprised again.
The first night I got him, I wondered whether to let my kitten sleep in the bedroom at night. I tried it out, but he kept batting at the window blinds and pouncing on my feet. I put him out into the living room without any problems. He wanted to sleep.
The next night, Hamlet meowed like an sorrowful baby, and after 20 minutes I let him into the room. He clawed his way up my bed and plopped himself at my feet; 5 minutes later, I carried him back into the living room without protest. He wanted company before he slept.
The night after that, the meowing began again. I opened the door to let him onto the bed for a while but Hamlet stayed at my feet, meowing. I picked him up, carried him to the living room, and petted him for a few minutes. He fell asleep, purring. He wanted reassurance before he slept.
Sometimes even kittens don't really know what they want.
Anonymous
November 6 2005, 17:45:41 UTC 6 years ago
Cats
Cats are for old, lonely, middle aged, balding women,(ala spinster) who read the New Yorker, and are generally upset at the world. I'm not sure you fall into any of the above classifications (perhaps upset at the world).November 8 2005, 00:59:19 UTC 6 years ago
Re: Cats
That is a horrible stereotype. Cats are not just for geriatric, hairless, literate, homicidal women who hate Spam. I happen to know that youthful, hairy, illiterate, and suicidal women also own cats; their cats hate Spam too.