I got up at 8 a.m. hoping to see snow on the ground. Mother Nature had the last laugh…it’s raining…again….
I sat down to type, and the cats bombarded me. I think I told you we have four: Padme, Naboo, Trinity and Neo—all shades-of-grey tabbies. Neo is the only boy and biggest presence. He’s almost a year old, and the dogs are the only ones not intimidated by him. He isn’t mean, just hell on wheels, although when he snuggles next to you, purring incessantly, it’s easy to forgive all transgressions.
This morning, surrounded by a chorus of demanding meows, I knew I had Neo to thank. He has a habit of covering the cat food with a nearby rug. Whether this is a statement regarding food quality or an instinctive ritual, I haven’t determined. It completely confuses my older cats though and equally baffles Neo (picture Dori in Finding Nemo). They all know where the bowl should be—they can smell it—but no one can find it. Domestication really messes with natural thought processes.
This is where I come in. Being capable of 3-D thinking, the bump under the rug means something to me, and I find the bowl every time. The cats are suitably impressed, and I enjoy a moment of glory. We go through this every day…I could move the rug, but I’ve learned not to underestimate Neo’s persistence. The cats eat in the garage—access to the rug keeps Neo from finding something else to cover the bowl...like a car.