Little Cat

Little Cat

 

At 1:55 (give or take) am this morning Little Cat came in through the bathroom window from his nightly gallivanting. Little Cat was little when he came through my window two years’ ago, around about now, and declared himself at home. He is no longer little, but that’s his name. His claiming my house as his home stuck. So did his name. My other – extremely old – cat is called BabyCat. Go figure.

I heard him come in because I was awake and he’s not the most graceful feline known to man. Despite the bathroom window being left open, always the same width, with all knock-overable objects removed, he still manages to enter with a bump-plonk-galumph noise, landing on the stone bathroom floor.

From there, he padded (read: walked loudly) into the kitchen to replace the nutrients he’d used up gallivanting. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Then back to my room, his twenty little cat claws like twenty tiny high heels on the wooden floor, and up onto my bed. I pulled the blankets that’d he heavily pulled off my shoulders back over me as he settled.

At 2:00 (again, give or take) am this morning Little Cat began to give himself a head-to-toe wash with his little raspy tongue. I could hear him cleaning carefully from between each of his twenty toes/high heels, all the way to the tips of his ears. He then – presumably in post-cleanliness exhaustion – fell into a deep sleep, complete with contented snores.

This morning I woke. He semi-woke. Just enough to move from where he was curled in the bend of my knees to the other side of the bed. To where my getting up would not bother him. He promptly went back to sleep, his early-early-morning nap.

When I got up, he did too, lazily stretching and looking at me with his green eyes. He ambled through to the kitchen to replace the nutrients he’d used up having his early-early-morning nap, returning to hop back up onto the bed and snuggle in the tangle of bedding, his paws tucked neatly beneath him, watching me as I did my face next to the dressing table. I realised that, perhaps, he was judging me slightly for using a petal (those round cotton wool things) with toner, as opposed to my tongue and paw. Luckily the judging tired him out and he fell asleep. His early morning nap.

At this point I had to go out into the cool, still dark, winter morning. This did not bother him even slightly as he continued his early morning nap.

Despite my not being there, I can tell you what he’s been doing. He may not be all that graceful, but he’s predictable. He will have moved from my bed to the lounge window (inside) on my desk, where there’s a patch of sun, for his mid-morning nap (possibly with a snack on the way). If the sun had been shining brightly, he would’ve taken his mid-morning nap on the table in the garden. In the sun. His afternoon nap(s) are back on my bed. In the winter afternoon sun patch there.

Don’t get me wrong, he doesn’t only sleep and eat. Sometimes he gets up and hangs out in the garden under the birdfeeder looking up and having large hunting imaginations. I hope they will stay imaginary. Other times he gallops wildly up and down the passage, scaring the bejaysus out of anyone coming down said passage and the poor old lady of the house, BabyCat.

Occasionally, he’ll have a stare-off through the bars of the garden gate with Monty, the ginger cat who lives down the road and is partial to our house’s cat’s food. Little Cat is, however, not partial to his liking the food. Then there’s the sitting on the edge of the toilet for hours, looking at the water in the bowl, watching his shadow, and sometimes extending his paw to see what’ll happen. I’m not going to say anything more on that, though. He may not like it.

I will not be bitter about this lazy day experienced by my cat. I will just be glad that I have a cat that has such good hygeine and sound sleeping habits. I will also be very glad (as should he) that he is so terribly cute. If he weren’t, I think we may feel differently about his wildly decadent lifestyle.

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