Indoor Games

The news headlines say we're in for colder weather and snow for February! But the white box repair man still hasn't returned. Our contribution to global warming is therefore threatening to be disappointingly low this month. Yet, having every confidence in the human race, I'm willing to believe it takes many long weeks to put a phone call through to the manufacturer for advice; "Press one for sales. Press two to progress an order. Press three etc." Then having to listen to 48 hours of Leonard Cohen presumably as a test of your mental stability before being permitted to submit a challenging question to another human being. Yes, it can take a long time, particularly in these days of recession!
So, for the time being, Mister is keeping the house warm by way of strange gestures and stern commands which he makes at the white box. He pokes it rudely in its one red eye saying,"You don't get off that lightly old boy!" and such like.
In puss terms, cold weather means more dozing time; more looking for naughty things to do around the house, more tapping of interesting things off the windowsills, more staring forlornly out of the cat flap and more bundling with Millhouse. Well actually, more time spent goading the humans. They surge across the room with wide-spread arms making low pitched hubbledy hissing noises and we look back with suitably shocked faces. Secretly we chuckle inside. We likes reaction. We wants it.
Sometimes, we gets too much of it!
Sometimes we gets none of it. You've heard of lap cats. I was a lap cat once. No not a cream lappy type cat; a cat who enjoyed the warmth of a sitting human lap. Nice lap. Purry lap. Then home came the naff lap. Yes, the lap top. The lap top which sits on laps.
It laps too. It laps up attention time, our stroking time, our feeding time!
They may say they're working on it. But it's always the same work. That green screen work with the playing cards on it? Some work! Spider work! I peer at them over the screen. I sit alongside. I watch those skittering cards. I may be tempted to pat them. Finally, patiently but pointedly, I skillfully glide in front of their faces and sit upon the keyboard. Food is produced - 'tout suit'. Tummy is filled. Chops are licked. We knows what we wants.

....And we gets it!

Q.E.D.
(Quite Easily Done)


Herky