about the cat

[slidingsideways]

The cat has figured out that the treats live in the container on my night table. She has knocked over almost everything in her efforts to open the canister. I put them on a high shelf, but I know they aren't safe there. I'll put them in the pantry before I leave and hope she doesn't have the leverage to open it.

She is heavier than the lanky cat we brought home two weeks ago. She is more muscular by the day. She leaped from the windowsill to the bed yesterday, a considerable jump. She plays seriously, growling at her toys, caroming off the bed, dashing down the hall in a black blur of motion.

The hair they shaved is growing back. Her belly looks like gray flannel. I tried to touch it this morning and she grabbed my hand, but gently, no claws or teeth. I took my hand away and she lay there for a moment with her mouth open, looking like a tiny lion. She's too busy for my touch during the day. Late in the afternoon, she comes to me, blinking, and pushes her face into the cone of my relaxed hand until I rub her forehead with my thumb. She sinks down against me with closed eyes and flexes her toes.

Comments

[swerve.livejournal.com]

We think she's happy. She's settling in well.

I believe it about your little burglar. Cats are capable of amazing things. I still don't know how she knocked over only the water glass.