   Thursday's exercise routine... exhausting! | My cat Thursday is a bit of a curmudgeon most of the time. She’s rather standoffish, choosing to spend most of her days lounging around on my bed in the back room. When she does venture out, she likes to sit in that perfect spot on the living room floor where she is guaranteed to be in everyone’s way, no matter which way they are headed. In the three plus years that I have had my second cat, Sebastian, Thursday has never taken a shine to him. She hisses at him when he walks by, even though he steers clear of her as best he can with her parked deliberately in his way. Sometimes she’ll bolt down the hallway and take a swat at Sebastian for no good reason. |
Sebastian takes it all in stride. He’s like the antithesis of Thursday, calm and sweet and friendly.
Thursday is in the “mature” stage of kitty ages. At 9 years old, she’s not young by any means, but she still has the “senior” and “geriatric” stages to look forward to. She seems to be in good health, but she is definitely mellowing as far as her activity level goes. She was never much of a hunter, but now she doesn’t hardly leave the yard. Which suits me just fine. Both of my cats are indoor/outdoor kitties, and I worry about them bothering my neighbors or getting run over.
The woman next door to me started flicking her extinguished (I hope) cigarette butts into my yard a while back. I wondered if she thought that was okay since my cat was in her yard all the time. Some kind of quid pro quo mentality, perhaps. Being the non-confrontational person that I am, I opted to not try to discuss her rationale with her. Instead, I started collecting the cigarette butts and placing them back on her side of the fence. I figured if it was some kind of retaliation for my cat’s behavior, she could always just place the cat back on my side of the fence. Quid pro quo.
Eventually, even though we never discussed it, she stopped tossing her cigarette butts over the fence. Unfortunately, I really have no way to stop Sebastian from climbing the fence and entering her yard. At this point, I can’t convert him into an indoor cat. He would be miserable. So I’m glad that at least Thursday has stopped prowling the neighborhood so much.
I tend to relate to Thursday. I wouldn’t exactly say I’m a curmudgeon, and I don’t lie on the floor and take swats at the kitties when they pass by. But I don’t really mind too much being by myself a lot, and I would rather stay at home than venture out. I call it being mellow. My psychiatrist calls it isolating.
I saw my psychiatrist today and she pointed out that my reluctance to get out and about will only increase the more I indulge it. She had all sorts of ideas as to how I could get involved with more people, and I had all sorts of reasons as to why her ideas wouldn’t work. In the end, she basically said it was up to me to determine the quality of life I want to have. Hmmm. Touche.
I look at Thursday laying on the floor taking one of her numerous catnaps of the day, and I think that’s not all bad. But for all I know, she
could be secretly running out and partying with the opossums when I’m not looking. It’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for.
Thursday’s not a real go-getter, and neither am I. But maybe I should aspire to more in life than unlimited catnaps. I’ll take it under consideration. In the meantime, Thursday has suddenly shifted into her “adore me” mode and has jumped up on the couch to come and regale me and my computer with a new covering of fur. She can be a cutie when she wants to. And I do adore her, but cautiously. She has learned that she can bite the hand that feeds her, and get away with it.
Ah, well. Time for a nap.
Maggie
Thursday is in the “mature” stage of kitty ages. At 9 years old, she’s not young by any means, but she still has the “senior” and “geriatric” stages to look forward to. She seems to be in good health, but she is definitely mellowing as far as her activity level goes. She was never much of a hunter, but now she doesn’t hardly leave the yard. Which suits me just fine. Both of my cats are indoor/outdoor kitties, and I worry about them bothering my neighbors or getting run over.
The woman next door to me started flicking her extinguished (I hope) cigarette butts into my yard a while back. I wondered if she thought that was okay since my cat was in her yard all the time. Some kind of quid pro quo mentality, perhaps. Being the non-confrontational person that I am, I opted to not try to discuss her rationale with her. Instead, I started collecting the cigarette butts and placing them back on her side of the fence. I figured if it was some kind of retaliation for my cat’s behavior, she could always just place the cat back on my side of the fence. Quid pro quo.
Eventually, even though we never discussed it, she stopped tossing her cigarette butts over the fence. Unfortunately, I really have no way to stop Sebastian from climbing the fence and entering her yard. At this point, I can’t convert him into an indoor cat. He would be miserable. So I’m glad that at least Thursday has stopped prowling the neighborhood so much.
I tend to relate to Thursday. I wouldn’t exactly say I’m a curmudgeon, and I don’t lie on the floor and take swats at the kitties when they pass by. But I don’t really mind too much being by myself a lot, and I would rather stay at home than venture out. I call it being mellow. My psychiatrist calls it isolating.
I saw my psychiatrist today and she pointed out that my reluctance to get out and about will only increase the more I indulge it. She had all sorts of ideas as to how I could get involved with more people, and I had all sorts of reasons as to why her ideas wouldn’t work. In the end, she basically said it was up to me to determine the quality of life I want to have. Hmmm. Touche.
I look at Thursday laying on the floor taking one of her numerous catnaps of the day, and I think that’s not all bad. But for all I know, she
could be secretly running out and partying with the opossums when I’m not looking. It’s always the quiet ones you have to watch out for.
Thursday’s not a real go-getter, and neither am I. But maybe I should aspire to more in life than unlimited catnaps. I’ll take it under consideration. In the meantime, Thursday has suddenly shifted into her “adore me” mode and has jumped up on the couch to come and regale me and my computer with a new covering of fur. She can be a cutie when she wants to. And I do adore her, but cautiously. She has learned that she can bite the hand that feeds her, and get away with it.
Ah, well. Time for a nap.
Maggie
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