We have a new thing in the garden. Ha ha, bet I tricked you there. It’s irony, of course. Of course you didn’t know cats do irony. I assure you I have no difficulty woth it.
Any way, the new thing. The boy brought it. I think he’s trying to soften me up.
After the man and the boy and the prancing foal-child left, the old woman brought the new thing inside. Set it on a dessert plate and on the home-made kindergarten chair.
Within easy reach, she said.
An invitation I could not resist.
I’m laying here impatiently waiting for the next thing.
These are the cross roads, you understand? The place where I’ll be ready for anything. A couple of cat-lengths southwards of my tail the old woman is having her breakfast.
Behind my back is the kitchen where food is stored. In front is the primary space for playing and hunting. Northward is my den, where I have my water well, my bed and my wood for scratching.
Sniff. Sniff. Oh, I’ll just take another turn through the woodland. I believe I may have missed a cache or two of kibbles. The old woman keeps finding new places.
Kibbles both inside and on the top? I made short work of them!
Then it’s time for her to clean the den.
I’m looking forward to an uninterrupted day. Both Friday and Saturday we had far too many visitors for my comfort. I spent most of Friday under the couch, and a good half of Saturday under the big bed.
We definitely have not yet hit our goldilocks moment with cat litter!
Who knew there would be so many brands and types available. I started with my usual arrogant save-the-world attitude and bought a large 10kg bag of recycled newspaper pellets. This being possible because someone else was carrying it to the car and from the car to my apartment. Newspaper pellets go sludgy.
Second was hemp pellets, left overs from the process of producing hemp for rope, hemp-crete and other products, this was another product that was going to save the environment. Hemp pellets disintegrate into a fine dust difficult to clean up and very bad for my allergies.
Third was a gravelly product made of tofu and pea flour. It is meant to ‘clump’ and so be easier to keep the litter box clean. It does clump but is also easily transported into the rest of the house by sticking between the poor cat’s toes, and is nearly as bad as the proverbial Lego block to stand on when walking around on bare feet. And why wouldn’t I?
Fourth is a tiny vermicelli-like extruded pellet made of coconut fiber and charcoal. This was probably the worst purchase yet. Very sharp, and I soon picked up a piece in the sole of my foot. Have been wearing a big band aid for a week. Apart from that, the stuff ‘clumps’ only reluctantly. The one thing going for it, it does work wonders on odors.
Above, a mix of fresh litter containing all four of the recalcitrant litter types. As by then I’d been buying a new sort every time I went shopping, and since I can carry home only the stuff I can fit on my walker, the average bag of litter weighs 5 kg.
At the present we’re trying out the mix of sawdust and wood-splinters. And when I go shopping in a few minutes I will probably–out of sheer pernickety recalcitrance–buy yet another of the still untried possibilities.
Having to send untold bags of used cat litter to land-fill is also not ideal. Before, when I lived in freestanding houses, the used cat litter went into the compost bin, or was buried in the garden and helped to build up my low-lying yard. I’ll be asking Brisbane City Council why apartement blocks don’t get green bins. It’s not as if we don’t produce any organic waste!
There has got to be a better way!
The old woman has got me hunting for my kibbles now.
Here I am on the balcony, washing draped around me drying, ah found some.
I know there are some nearby. I can smell them.
Ah … found them!
Me training the old woman is an ongoing project. My main drive is to get more food more often. The day after she went out for dinner was excellent. We had a new to me meat at lunchtime … when she fed me a couple of chunks … and at dinner time when I got some of the gravy as well as a few more scraps. Yum!
This is me the day before, cleaning the bag that the barbecued chook came in. Forgot to mention that delicacy. Seems to me she tries me on new things at lunchtimes.
So it’s very disappointing when there is nothing much in the middle of the day. Makes the day long and boring.
To my surprise the day she went shopping she brought home a thing she probably thought I’d love. Nothing is further from that feeling about the alien thing she expects me to interact with.
We have embarked on another training program, which is me learning not to ‘scrapple’ the carpet, is what the old woman calls it. Good luck with that, I say. It feels entirely too satisfying to give that up in a snap. I spread my front paw toes out wide and extend my front claws. Grab hold of a good swag of the stuff, and P-U-LL!
“NO!” the old woman said in a big voice.
The first time I got such a fright I had to go spend time under the couch to recover. But I had to make sure it was the clawing she was talking about, you know?
So I waltzed out in front of her working on the kitchen bench. Did it all again.
“NO!” she said.
So, yeah. OK. She doesn’t want me to shred the carpet. I’m pretty sure I’d have no problem, I already made short work of two rows of carpet weave that were sticking out into my domain from under the shed door.
Well no, maybe not short work. It might’ve taken me all one night, niggling at it. But would you believe, when the old woman went out for a walk, she came back with a huge slab of flood-worn five-ply she picked up from a place on the creek bank.
I said it’s big! But totally not something I’ve ever seen. Why wouldn’t I cringe away from it?
So first there was training me to trust it. Using kibbles of course.
Does she think I’ll trust anything just because it has kibbles on it?
OK, I didn’t last very long not trusting it. Soon gobbled them up and the thing didn’t leap up and bite me.
So next is teaching me to use it for my scratching instead of the carpet. Huh! I so can’t see that a piece of wood will be as satisfying as carpet!
Now that I’ve proven that I know how to play, the old woman is constantly thinking up new games. My favorite one so far is hunting kibbles.
Round about her lunchtime she’ll wander around with a small handful of kibbles and drops them tinkling into the various little plates and bowls she has hidden around the unit.
I know she means me to listen for the sound of them hitting the china but why would I? I just watch her bending over here and there to pour them from only a little height.
Then … this afternoon … she totally tricked me! We had a parcel delivery this morning that came in a cardboard box. After unpacking it, she set it in the living room.
“Go ahead,” she said. “Find out what’s in it. You should be able to smell them.”
First I just walked past it. It smelled new. Cardboardy. After her lunch I walked past it again. Hmph, still new and cardboardy.
By mid afternoon I’d worked it out though I continued lying around. A box with flappy bits—like that—seems like they’ll jump up and get me if I try to jump in between them.
The old woman weakened and lay the box on its side. That’s when I made my move …
Rita de Heer 