He even sleeps like a dog!
Mike again.
As time goes on, and Kate and I grow toward each other, certainly some of the little games we play with each other, to differentiate ourselves, will blur a bit like our personalities. But there will always be contrasts...probably our favorite game right now is the cat/dog thing, since she was born in the Chinese year of the tiger (fierce, sly, and solitary), I in the year of the dog (loyal, protective, intolerant of weakness). So I call her bengal, and she calls me pup. And it's a lot of fun to play off that (and it's also a lot of fun to slip into a mythical kind of role).
So right now, I'm ostensibly outnumbered in the household by felines, two to one (4 da record, little EJ is gonna be born in the year of the ox (discreet, hardworking and kind) ). But Jasper really doesn't act like a cat, much of the time. He's kind of a dog. Last summer, when I was still on my own (hadn't even met bengal yet), I'd take off early most mornings for a day of surveying Narragansett Bay. Since Jasper loves going outside, he'd accompany me, and as I walked toward my car, he'd head into the meadow beside the condo and disappear into the tall grass. When I came back home in the late afternoon, he'd either be waiting for me in the parking lot, or else I'd whistle for him and he'd come bounding through the flowers toward me, and would then shadow me all the way back to my front door, where he'd skitter in ahead of me and wait to be fed. The neighbors whose units face the parking lot, and who got to view our little parting and greeting rituals, got a big kick out of the cat that acts like a dog.
This afternoon Katie and I decided to go for a walk. I'd already let the cat out (this being one of thsoe incessant in/out days; gray, ever-so-slightly drizzly, breezeless and kind of warm). We strolled across the parking lot toward the road, and I happened to turn back to look down the driveway, probably to scan for cars. There was the cat, about thirty feet behind, hugging the shrubs, trailing us. We stopped and he trotted up, trotted right past, and then stopped, looking somewhat disoriented. It was kind of hilarious that he was following us so far, and a little worrisome, since Route 1 is a pretty busy road. And it seemed pretty clear that Jasper had never been even this far along the driveway. He was looking around with a slinking, shy demeanor, as if he were afraid of something. So he didn't object when I picked him up and started carrying him back toward the condo. Rather, he stayed sedately in my arms, craning his neck in one direction and another, getting the lay of the land. As we approached the dumpster at the corner of the parking lot, he began fighting to be let go, so I dropped him on the grass, and Katie and I turned around to make one more try.
The cat lay down beneath the pickup and didn't seem to pay us much attention as we walked off. About fifty paces later I looked back, and his eyes were on mine. Bad sign. Thirty paces beyond that, when we'd reached the grass, we turned around to see him trotting across the asphalt toward us. He then broke into a full run, ears back, galloping into the grass and up to us.
Freaking little annoyance. Won't even let us take a walk in peace.
So we decided the only way to solve the problem was to return to the condo, lure him inside, give him and early dinner and then take our walk. We did that, but he remained rooted to the spot when we began walking back. I whistled; he did nothing. So I called, "Jasper, come here," and the little thing broke into a full gallop again and came running back up to us a second time. Soon enough he was inside chowing down, and we were on our merry way (and we managed to get a look at that bird Katie's been trying to identify; but we can't ID it with any references yet. It looks very much like a black-headed grosbeak, but the song and the range are all wrong).
So we come back, and we're both on our laptops, trying to figure out ways to put the a name to the bird we've seen and heard. We failed, but I found a site which had recordings of various birdsongs, and we went through the likeliest candidates (in vain). But the cat was fooled. Formerly dozing on the desk chair, his head popped up and his eyes sprang open wide when he heard the first song. After listening to another minute or so of chirping, he came over to me and began stalking my laptop. First he examined the screen. No bird. He walked around to the back side, and stared. No bird. He examined the sides of the machine, even testing them with his paw. No bird to be found. Frustrated and bored, he gave up on the whole thing.
And that was only one cat! Coming up: Katie vs. the swans...
As time goes on, and Kate and I grow toward each other, certainly some of the little games we play with each other, to differentiate ourselves, will blur a bit like our personalities. But there will always be contrasts...probably our favorite game right now is the cat/dog thing, since she was born in the Chinese year of the tiger (fierce, sly, and solitary), I in the year of the dog (loyal, protective, intolerant of weakness). So I call her bengal, and she calls me pup. And it's a lot of fun to play off that (and it's also a lot of fun to slip into a mythical kind of role).
So right now, I'm ostensibly outnumbered in the household by felines, two to one (4 da record, little EJ is gonna be born in the year of the ox (discreet, hardworking and kind) ). But Jasper really doesn't act like a cat, much of the time. He's kind of a dog. Last summer, when I was still on my own (hadn't even met bengal yet), I'd take off early most mornings for a day of surveying Narragansett Bay. Since Jasper loves going outside, he'd accompany me, and as I walked toward my car, he'd head into the meadow beside the condo and disappear into the tall grass. When I came back home in the late afternoon, he'd either be waiting for me in the parking lot, or else I'd whistle for him and he'd come bounding through the flowers toward me, and would then shadow me all the way back to my front door, where he'd skitter in ahead of me and wait to be fed. The neighbors whose units face the parking lot, and who got to view our little parting and greeting rituals, got a big kick out of the cat that acts like a dog.
This afternoon Katie and I decided to go for a walk. I'd already let the cat out (this being one of thsoe incessant in/out days; gray, ever-so-slightly drizzly, breezeless and kind of warm). We strolled across the parking lot toward the road, and I happened to turn back to look down the driveway, probably to scan for cars. There was the cat, about thirty feet behind, hugging the shrubs, trailing us. We stopped and he trotted up, trotted right past, and then stopped, looking somewhat disoriented. It was kind of hilarious that he was following us so far, and a little worrisome, since Route 1 is a pretty busy road. And it seemed pretty clear that Jasper had never been even this far along the driveway. He was looking around with a slinking, shy demeanor, as if he were afraid of something. So he didn't object when I picked him up and started carrying him back toward the condo. Rather, he stayed sedately in my arms, craning his neck in one direction and another, getting the lay of the land. As we approached the dumpster at the corner of the parking lot, he began fighting to be let go, so I dropped him on the grass, and Katie and I turned around to make one more try.
The cat lay down beneath the pickup and didn't seem to pay us much attention as we walked off. About fifty paces later I looked back, and his eyes were on mine. Bad sign. Thirty paces beyond that, when we'd reached the grass, we turned around to see him trotting across the asphalt toward us. He then broke into a full run, ears back, galloping into the grass and up to us.
Freaking little annoyance. Won't even let us take a walk in peace.
So we decided the only way to solve the problem was to return to the condo, lure him inside, give him and early dinner and then take our walk. We did that, but he remained rooted to the spot when we began walking back. I whistled; he did nothing. So I called, "Jasper, come here," and the little thing broke into a full gallop again and came running back up to us a second time. Soon enough he was inside chowing down, and we were on our merry way (and we managed to get a look at that bird Katie's been trying to identify; but we can't ID it with any references yet. It looks very much like a black-headed grosbeak, but the song and the range are all wrong).
So we come back, and we're both on our laptops, trying to figure out ways to put the a name to the bird we've seen and heard. We failed, but I found a site which had recordings of various birdsongs, and we went through the likeliest candidates (in vain). But the cat was fooled. Formerly dozing on the desk chair, his head popped up and his eyes sprang open wide when he heard the first song. After listening to another minute or so of chirping, he came over to me and began stalking my laptop. First he examined the screen. No bird. He walked around to the back side, and stared. No bird. He examined the sides of the machine, even testing them with his paw. No bird to be found. Frustrated and bored, he gave up on the whole thing.
And that was only one cat! Coming up: Katie vs. the swans...
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