Never a moment’s peace

I have a carpenter in at the moment, building some wardrobes. (Finally, my storage problems will be solved!) This means that for a few weeks I have stuff in boxes again, and that the cat is totally wigging out. He’s not brilliant with strangers and has evidently decided that the carpenter smells unfamiliar, or however he decides who to talk to and who to hide from. And he’s driving me crazy. I come home in the evening and he follows me round, mewing at me, not settling; or curling up tight in my lap like he wants to be protected. It’s taking me a while to get used to having a talkative cat at the best of times (Felix hardly ever opened his mouth, which is odd – as a farm cat you’d have thought he’d be born to mew. Which was, of course, Springsteen’s first version) but this is a constant stream of mewling and brrip-ing. Poor kitteh, he’s very confused. He needs to take some lessons from Kismet on how to be a man-cat. And when the carpenter’s finished I immediately go away for a week (question: is it wise to tell The Internet when your house is about to be unoccupied?) and he’ll have to get used to the catsitter. Oh, I’m going to be very unpopular when I get back…

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2 responses to “Never a moment’s peace

  1. kate February 5, 2007 at 7:59 pm

    i have a theory that elgar is weirded out around men. he doesn’t seem bothered by women, does he? maybe it’s a testosterone thing. you should do some experiments on him to test the theory.

  2. Rachel February 5, 2007 at 8:37 pm

    You know, I’d think that but he lived with a man originally, and he was OK with his Uncle Will… and totally freaked out by the Cats Centre staff who are all women. And Dad got him to the point where he could tickle his belly. I think it’s some pheromone thing, something in the smells of people.
    Oh, who am I trying to kid. He’s just weird.

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