Harry was meowing piteously this morning as he sat on the 
arm of my chair and stared out the window at the plump, luscious robins, doves, grackles, cowbirds, chickadees, and goldfinches. T., who was reading a library book called How to Talk to Your Cat, by Jean Craighead George, explained to me that Harry was telling us that he wanted to go outside. I love my birds, so I wasn't feeling terribly sorry for our poor little predator (actually, I wouldn't begrudge him the cowbirds, but I don't think he would be selective) until
it occurred to me that his emotional state was similar to what K.'s would be if she were watching a herd of creamy, chocolatey candy bars cavorting teasingly just out of reach. Poor kitty.
arm of my chair and stared out the window at the plump, luscious robins, doves, grackles, cowbirds, chickadees, and goldfinches. T., who was reading a library book called How to Talk to Your Cat, by Jean Craighead George, explained to me that Harry was telling us that he wanted to go outside. I love my birds, so I wasn't feeling terribly sorry for our poor little predator (actually, I wouldn't begrudge him the cowbirds, but I don't think he would be selective) until
it occurred to me that his emotional state was similar to what K.'s would be if she were watching a herd of creamy, chocolatey candy bars cavorting teasingly just out of reach. Poor kitty.
4 comments:
I am being teased over my shoulder about becoming an old woman who likes to talk about her cat.
I'll ignore that and say that mine loves to sit on a window ledge next to the screen with the window open. He's never been an outdoor cat and on the few occassions that he's ventured out of a door left open he finds it unpleasant.
Well, you can't talk math all the time! Prior to this cat showing up, I thought that at least I would never be a crazy cat lady (possibly a crazy dog lady, very likely a crazy book lady buried under a toppled stack, but at least not a cat lady), but now all bets are off.
I'm glad to hear that a cat might enjoy looking outside more than actually venturing out. I think Harry Could dart out an open door if he really wanted to, so maybe he doesn't desperately want out after all. There is just too much traffic going past our house.
Perhaps once they become used to flat, dry, clean carpeting walking on dew-covered icky grass and sticky leaves isn't much fun anymore.
Good point. I am amazed at how much "hunting" Harry manages inside the house. Shoes, scraps of paper, bead necklaces, etc. all become prey to stalk and attack.
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