Firestar can open kitchen drawers. Not the small ones just below the counter surface, but the big drawers closer to the floor.
He taught himself to do this after teaching himself how to open the cupboard doors. Spouse used to keep his food there. After he was able to open cupboards Spouse put his food in one of the big drawers. After he was able to open that the food went into the laundry room. He's working on opening door with a handle, but he's not quite tall enough. What he needs is a step stool or something. God help us if he figures that out.
Although his food is no longer in the big drawer he will still open it up on occasion to look inside. It's where we now keep cookie sheets, pizza pans, and things like that. He sees me use the drawer often enough that he wants to make sure about what's in there, I guess.
The other day Spouse was at the sink and I was at my computer station. From my computer station I see all of the kitchen. The kitchen is about two-and-a-half feet higher than the family room, where my computer station is, and all that separates the two rooms is a wooden rail.
Anyway, Firestar goes to the big drawer and begins working it open. Takes him about a minute. He jumps inside to make sure
all of the pans have to be rewashed. Then he hops out and walks over to Spouse as if to point out the fact that there isn't anything of value in the drawer.
Spouse talks to him, bragging him up for being so clever about opening the door. He struts and purrs. Then Spouse looks at the drawer.
"Hey! You left it open. Close it when you're done."Firestar immediately responds with his angry meow.
They don't take orders, you know.
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Music to Make the Cats go Wild
Tara - Nick name 'ity-bit' because she's so tiny - just over 6 pounds. She's the most skittish of all my babies and even when being petted has the 'pet me, no don't pet me' look
Amelia - Nickname 'Bratelia' since she gets into every draw, cabinet that she can put her paws in.
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“She’s got tuna. I know she’s got tuna.”
“Shut up, Sethra. Stay on mission.”
“What’s the mission? I thought the mission was to get tuna.”
“No, you stupid fluffbrain—it’s to escape and become outdoor cats, walking by ourselves, on our wild lone, waving our tails.”
“Oh, yeah? And isn’t it you, my dear stripy sister Aliera, who keeps pushing the FEED button on the printer and waiting for tuna to come out?”
“That was when I was much younger. Anyway, she’s at the computer—yes, eating tuna casserole—so we can go into the bedroom and see if we can knock the window screen out.”
“You do it, Aliera. I’d rather mess with her stuff.”
“Will you GET OVER that fixation on her wristwatch?”
“I like the feel of the Velcro on my paws. Hey! That reminds me. We’ve been declawed. How are we going to survive as outdoor cats?”
“New plan coming up….”
“What’s the big deal about being outside cats? Even StalkerCat, who used to hang around and chat us up, is a house cat now and loving it. We’ve got it made—food, petting, toys, valet service for the litter box, and we get to sleep on her bed twenty hours a day. And we can stick our noses up to the window and smell anything interesting going on outside. Why ruin a perfect situation?”
“Sethra, have you no sense of adventure? No curiosity? No cattitude? We were meant to live wild and free, to stalk and slay our prey, to be mistresses of the night!”
“Look, we’re cats. We were meant to rule the world, but that doesn’t mean we have to WORK at it. You can if you want, but I don’t need to. After all, I’M beautiful!
“Did I mention she’s got tuna?”
At 8, you'd think Mikey would understand that he's a carnivore. But, no, he's rather fond of the shrubbery! At 20+ pounds, the veggie-enhanced diet is likely mitigated by a love for long naps on a warm comforter, wet cat food, begging at the table, and a nice lap to drape himself upon in the evening. And he drools when he's happy, which may or may not mean there's a Siamese ancestor lurking in the old dna.
What? Green teeth attract mice!
Who needs a wickerwork basket when you can hop on a cushion and bask?
Rufus is clearly a cat to be reckoned with.
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Firestar is a tough cat. He has to be, living in Minnesota. He takes care of his family: wife, husband and their son. This was recently proven by his daring capture of yet another mouse in the house. Foolish rodents. They never learn. When not engaged in derring do, Firestar naps, looks out the window and sleeps. Firestar was born in April of 2006.
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4 comments:
He's an amazing cat. He must be very bright.
Seems that way. At times. When we're playing with one of his toys he will stop and look at us. Then, instead of going after the toy at the end of the string, he goes after the hand holding the toy.
I've got to film Son and him. Son gets him to jump high in the air. He used to fetch, but he's tired of that game.
Our cat will play peek-a-boo sometimes. You go around a corner and slowly look around. When you see his eye's quickly bring your head back. He gets so much fun out of that.
Pardon my asking, but isn't your cat kind of psychotic?
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