The words "rod" and "back" come to mind .......

It could be because Austin's an only cat that he can be (is) quite demanding! I've only got myself to blame. I've spoilt him. Of course, when he adopted us, he laid down the ground rules, but I had no idea that compliance could bring so much grief. The thing is ...... well the problem is .... I suppose what it all comes down to is "routine".

If I'm not at the right place at the right time for him, it becomes a major issue and I've never known a cat who can be so affronted and whose looks could be so LOUD!

Admittedly I tend to do the same thing at the same time. So after I've done the same thing at the same time a few thousand times, he gets lulled into a false sense of security.

Picture the scene (1):

He comes in from out. He has a bite of FelixChickeninRichGravy. He goes and sits in the window-behind-the-curtain for two-and-a-half minutes. After exactly two-and-a-half minutes he rushes out from window-behind-the-curtain, chirrups loudly and leaps from about six feet into my lap for cuddles and snuggles. We do this twelve-hundred-and-forty-two times in a row. On the twelve-hundred-and-forty-third time, I am not there. I am elsewhere. He screeches to a halt mid air and executes a purrfect Tom'nJerry type flop onto the poof in front the chair.

Oh the humiliation, the mortification, the perturbation, the ..... cheek!!!!

So moving the action along, we are now agog to know what happens on the twelve-hundred-and-forty-fourth occasion?

Picture the scene (2):

He comes in from out. He has a bite of FelixChickeninRichGravy. He goes and sits in the window-behind-the-curtain for two-and-a-half minutes. After exactly two-and-a-half minutes and, remembering the previous embarrassing occasion, he sticks his head out tentatively and looks at the chair-where-I'm-supposed-to-be-sitting. He looks at me ensconced in an unauthorised chair, humming to myself and buffing my nails. He strolls to authorised chair where we have cuddled and snuggled on twelve-hundred-and-forty-two occasions. He looks at the chair. He looks at me. He looks at chair again. I submit to superior feline will and move to authorised chair where cuddling and snuggling proceeds in the accepted manner. I jiggle around uncomfortably trying to (unsuccessfully) remove the rod that's sticking in my back!

 The "Look"