Wednesday, 2 April 2008

Exotic ancestry and playing tag?

There is no doubt that my mixed race moggie has exotic siamese somewhere in his lineage. His ability to run the whole gamut of feline vocalisation from friendly chirrup to frightening yowl is earsplittingly apparent and he makes it very clear what is meant by every little nuanced sound by employing a series of facial expressions just in case I've gone deaf over night. In this way we communicate quite successfully. It is a bit one sided though as my ability to speak cat is still only at the Enid Blyton stage, but my understanding has reached way beyond even Proust. So we have this agreement, he talks and tells me all about his problems and worries and I listen and make the appropriate responses. However, if all else fails he has discovered he can gain my undivided attention by clawing me in the foot. Clever boy!

So slowly, very slowly I got to comprehend, as having let him in and out at least six times through all the doors, that he wants, no, demands, that I go with him. It is not voluntary, it is mandatory. And this is how he does it. He leaps onto the fence and puts on an oscar winning performance for the neighbours. He sits there balancing as only a cat can do on about a millimetre of available fence and glares his laser glare and mews the most pitiful, pathetic, soul wrenching meow, so that I have to go out in a state of déshabillé at some ungodly hour and play a game with him just to stop the neighbours calling the RSPCA and reporting an incident of terrible cruelty to a small defenceless animal!

We then embark on a simple game of tag where he races up and taps me on the knee and rushes off over the fence to next door and sits grinning like the proverbial in the middle of the lawn. He then starts to groom himself with total disinterest. I pretend to be furious and stomp off indoors. The whole ritual takes about 30 seconds!

Am wondering by the way how long it will be before he learns that if it is raining outside one door, it is likely to be raining outside all of them! He is always so surprised and somewhat disgruntled as he picks his way delicately through the puddles to the outside privy in the fucshia bush.


  1. Lol, It's latin for Species Wolf, at least, loosely translated. Lupus = Wolf, Canis = species - Dog.

  2. Oh well that's a relief! (Anyone else looking at your comment will wonder what on earth we're going on about rotflol)


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