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 A blog of no uncertain musings. What goes on in my mind is often a source of wonder to me. |
| We have a cat. Like millions of homes across the world, we have a cat who fancies us as subjects. I've mentioned before that my wife loves cats. She really hates not having one in the house. Our last cat disappeared while we were on vacation in March (long story there). And this one was to be temporary until her grandson moved into his apartment at college. I don't know who decided temporary was to be permanent ... but it wasn't me. Anyway, Cheeto (no, he is not an orange cat; and no, I don't know why that name was chosen) now resides with us. He's a nice enough cat. And though he was an outdoor cat as a kitten, when grandson took him to college, he was domesticated indoors. And this is where we came in as guardians. Cheeto, like all his brethren, displays a remarkable disdain toward his human ... I was going to say masters. But that's obviously incorrect. Staying indoors requires a litterbox, which we keep in the attached garage. There is a small animal door in the garage door for Cheeto to use when he needs the litterbox. While he will use that door to come back in, he will NOT use it to go out. Thus, he sits by the door wailing to go out. Did I mention that I really don't care for cats? New development. Cheeto has spent the last two nights outside. We noticed his increased interest in the outside from his continued meowing at the screen doors and open windows. Jeanette let him out on the back deck as she tended to her herb garden. Normally a very cautious cat when confronted with something new, he bolted off the deck finding refuge under the shed. No amount of coaxing would entice him from his new lodging. Since he still had his claws, Jeanette took pity on me and said I wouldn't have to go under the shed to get him. I just smiled and said nothing, knowing that no Executive Order nor Congressional bill would force me under that shed. So, Cheeto spent his first overnight outdoors. Hunger must have forced him to reconsider the house as he was waiting to come inside when I went out for my walk yesterday and again this morning. He went straight for his food. I actually thought that a bit strange as Cheeto is an accomplished mouse catcher, having rid the house and garage of no fewer than eight mice since mid-April. If we could only teach him to catch moles. Still, I can't fault him for catching and killing mice but not eating them. I couldn't imagine them much of a delicacy.  So, akin to throwing someone in the pool to learn how to swim, Jeanette is letting Cheeto out for the night to learn the ways of the wild. We'll see how this works out. For now, Cheeto is still using the litterbox. Which reminds me--I have to tell Jeanette the litterbox needs cleaning. |
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