Cats are smarter than dogs. You can’t get eight cats to pull a sled through snow. Jeff Valdez
Now that cooler weather has arrived the tigers get their chance to be lap lumps in the dad’s favourite chair. It’s not unusual for me to get up in the morning and find two of them in the recliner. Most mornings it’s either Shiimsa and Skoshi or Shiimsa and his brother Gabby curled up together. For some reason Shiimsa really likes that chair. I just have to look like I’m headed for the chair and he’s in it, waiting for me to sit so he can plop down and go to sleep in my lap. Once the weather gets cool enough to have to put a blanket on the waterbed it’ll be a struggle to get into bed and a struggle to get out of bed.
Friday night Feurae had positioned himself as monorail kitteh on the back of the chair and I sat down gently so as not to propel him onto my back. I hadn’t any sooner gotten settled and here comes Shiimsa. He gets settled, his little motor running on medium loud. I started to read and the next thing I know Nagi, Prince of Darkness, potential slayer of stereo speakers, is in my lap as well. Nothing unusual about this, except all three are black. I have three black tigers and every one was in the chair at the same time, Feurae on the back, Shiimsa with his head on the right arm of the chair, Nagi with his on the left and me in the middle. I sure wanted somebody with a camera to show up. As naughty as Nagi can be he’s just the biggest lover. He’ll first position himself so that his head is on my chest and his butt on my thigh. When he’s been stroked for a couple minutes that little tongue sticking out routine takes over and his eyes assume that contented half open position. Then he slides down and positions himself on my leg and the chair arm. Too cute, they are.
Maste appears to be less incontinent of feces lately. It seems to occur more when he’s asleep now. I’m not finding little Hershey kisses on the floor like I was. I still have to check various surfaces and clean up after him but that’s nothing more than a small task. I’m hoping that time will heal this condition but if not, oh well. Cleaning up little poops is a small price to pay for this little love sponge. I’ve never had a tiger who wants this much attention. I keep an old towel handy to put in my lap when he wants to play lap lump. He’ll sit on the arm of the chair all evening if I keep stroking his head. His injury appears to have made his back quite sensitive and it takes a few strokes for him to settle down. I’m really glad I scooped him up when I did.
That’s all I’ve got. Share your tiger stories with us.
From the dawn of creation the cat has known his place, and he has kept it, practically untamed and unspoiled by man. He has retinue. Of all animals he alone attains to the Contemplative Life. He regards the wheel of existence from without, like the Buddha. There is no pretense of sympathy about the cat. He lives alone, aloft, sublime, in a wise passiveness…. Andrew Lang