I don’t really watch television. I often spend my time whiskers-deep in a good book. Moby Dick is my favourite. But last night Mama & Papa were watching an eye-catching documentary about Yellowstone in USA. It’s the largest super volcano in the world and could erupt at any moment.
Yellowstone during Summer features a great diversity of species. Birds, bears, flowers, fish. An unimaginable level of deliciousness.
And of course there is always a sense of enchantment as the beautiful sun sets…
In all my excitement for my new box I forgot something… Oh yes. My tail!
Some may say, it’s not cool to pray
But they haven’t met my Box
It gives me shelter and holds my toys
When I run out of time to play
I pray my Box, with its cardboard knocks
Will always be sturdy and strong
To withstand my pounce, and my weighty bounce
Like the strongest of garden rocks
I honour thy Box, and do hope for thee
To remain always in my heart
And if I lose my way, or forget to pray
Please keep your door open for me
Ok so I meowed too soon. It seems the mystical witches brew that is contained within a humble bottle of Feliway has weaved its magic after all. In an earlier post I described the anxiety-fuelled aggression that would overcome me some evenings, resulting in a most unpleasant shunning. It’s been a couple of months since Mama plugged in Copernicus’ Little Helper and the sweet pheromones pervaded the air. I’m calmer, have significantly reduced the unnecessary application of my fangs and even enjoy a dash of affection now and then. You could even try picking me up for a cuddle without the risk of too much blood-shed. Well not you, since I don’t know who you are but, you know after a few leg rubs… maybe.
The point is Feliway has helped me. I’m not a pill-pushing puss nor has Feliway provided me with free samples (although I wouldn’t say no), but if you’re finding yourself in a bit of a tizz, angry without reason or not entirely loving feline life, then give Feliway a whirl. And if you don’t like it, I’ll happily sniff your leftovers.
No I am not dead. This is the position I find most conducive to a deep, replenishing sleep. It’s how I realign my chakras. And let the heat from the ceiling ducks warm my belly. It’s a little unorthodox but you might like to try it if you ever experience feline insomnia. Ha. As if.
This is mousie. I am obsessed with him and not shy about admitting it. He makes my heart leap (and my paws too) when he emerges from his house atop the Food God (aka the fridge). Somehow he insists on remaining attached to his umbilical cord. He’s such a baby. Mama and Papa hold onto it while he dashes across the room, onto the bed, under the couch and flies through the air like the bat that lives in the tree outside. They must be related.
Can you see me here clutching mousie with a vice-like grip between my terrifying jaws? Look away if it upsets you.
Here he is attempting a futile manoeuvre called ‘escape’. Wrapped in a piece of newsprint, he tries to camouflage himself. It’s a bit sad really.
Copernicus the Cat Blog 