Whatcha doin' Chey?
In the last week or so, Baby Titten has found her string again. Sigh. So far so good, but I am predicting that within one week’s time, I will be hiding it from her because she will be tripping me in the hallway…
I already regret giving Baby Titten a new string. However, I have to admit her persistance is quite admirable. Currently the string has been dragged into the hallway and every time I walk down it she runs right next to my feet, meowing, and batting at my feet and then stopping by and sitting on the string. If I ignore her, she sits and meows. Actually it is more of a buur-rupt? kind of sound. If I ignore her further, the cries progress into the more mournful ma-raooww! And then, when I walk back by, she insists on walking in front of my feet, as though trying to herd me back to her string. She is, of course, trying to tell me to play the string game, but my only goal while this goes on is not to trip over her and fall. Last night before bed, she was desperate to play and first thing this morning, before coffee or breakfast or a shower or even taking the dogs out, we had to play with the string. Sigh…
Baby Titten loves to chase strings. We had a string from a pair of pajama pants that we kept for years. She carried it around like a security blanket. She would lay it in directly in our path and wait by it, for hours if necessary, and then cry and carry on until we would play with her. She would chase it until she was panting and her sides heaving. Have you ever seen a cat pant? It’s very strange. She will also catch the string in her mouth and take you along for a walk to some distant corner of the house. Sometimes we would hide the string because it became too overwhelming. Jack’s toy obsession does not begin to compare to Baby Titten’s string obsession. He is a Border Collie for heaven’s sake! This should not even be a contest.
Eventually the string disappeared and since then, she has not had strings on a regular basis. Lately, she has really been missing her string. I have caught her in my closet on multiple occassions batting at a drawstring on a pair pants. Tonight, she hit a new low in the string substitute search. She found a mouse toy, sat by it, and frantically cried, trying with all her might to tell me… something. I took the mouse by the tail and dragged it in front of her and she just looked at me. Apparently, not what she wanted. Maybe she wants to play fetch? I throw the toy to her. Again, not what she wanted. Suddenly I have an inspiration. I turn the mouse around, so I am holding it by the head, and the tail is dragging on the floor. She pounces. This is exactly what she wants, and I am struck by how exceptionally pathetic this whole scene is. Out of pity, I took a drawstring out an old pair of pants and we played the string game until she panted.