Coming down to the kitchen this morning, I break out a tin of cat food and load up the remaining dish. Kitty – the “viking cat” – saunters in and looks around. This is strange.
Usually, there is a mad rush for the bowl: a jostling as both cats attempt to go for the same portion (did I mention they are both quite stupid, really). Then a stand-off…or a minor tussle as one – usually Misz – extends a gentle paw and, like on the ads, drags the bowl in HIS direction.
But not this morning. The food went down as usual. Kitty entered, sat by the bowl, as though politely waiting for the house’s other cat to arrive. Hmmm: she would appear to be politer than the other household inhabitants.
After a bit, she lapped up some milk, then wandered off again. She seems subdued. Perhaps I am anthropomorphisising. Maybe she’s just had a hard night…and isn’t up to galoping down her food this morning.
Please, please don’t say she’s pining: I thought I’d be over Misz quickly. I’m not. I don’t think I could stand losing her, too.