I was full of optimism when Norman the Naughty Cat got her new collar a week or two ago but that optimism was short-lived.
We bought a second collar, this time for Seymour the Wonder Cat, in an effort to stop to make sure Seymour wasn’t feeling left out: he’d taken to walking up to Norman and poking at her new, shiny bell to make it ring.
So now Seymour has a rather fetching yellow/green collar and his very own bell. And Norman no longer has her collar … she managed to remove it last Thursday.
I arrived home from work that night and she positively bounced along the hallway to greet me, squawking excitedly. Then, she turned and bounced into our bedroom at the end of the hallway, stood in front of her favourite window and hopped from foot-to-foot like an excited child (well, in Norman’s case, feet-to-feet). She looked at me. She looked down. She squawked again, then looked at me again, all the while hopping expectantly.
And there it was: a dead bird. Damn.
She was singularly unimpressed when I picked the thing up and disposed of it. However, since then, she’s been giving the birdies a break. Her latest prey seems to be plastic bags.
She “caught” a couple yesterday and dragged ’em in through the cat door : one early in the morning, the other later in the afternoon. Both times she spent about 10 minutes pouncing on them before getting inside them and having a wee nap.
At least a shredded plastic bag is easier to clean up than a shredded bird.
She has also worked out how to open my wardrobe door and had caused devastation in there the past two nights, pulling clothes off hangers and shoes off shelves.