The cat and I have a non-verbal relationship.
He is able to bend my will with mind tricks and careful placement of his weaving body in geographic locations most likely to gain my attention by the sudden clarity of imminent danger.
Take tonight, for example. Tonight I went out in pursuit of my electronic vessel of dictation* and he desired me to attend a matter of some importance in the kitchen.
He herded me expertly over to the light switch before an imperceptible manoeuvre had me facing his food bowl.
I eyeballed him and reached for the plastic flask of kibble. He nodded his satisfaction.
Then looked towards the other bowl.
“Yeah” I managed to convey with a sideways-tilt and a “thxt”-click against the upper palate. “I get that you don’t like the f’ing fish, but you’re not going to starve.”
I have the feeling that our next encounter will not be so silent, for as I was leaving the room I could see the thought bubbles floating up from his ginger head,
plotting his pre-dawn revenge with the meow he reserves for interrupting me while working on the computer or when he is shut in – or out – of an unexpected room.
My money is on 4:12.
Too early to be a useful time to get up, too late for the remaining sleep to be of any value. Some would call it abuse – we just call it being OWNED by a cat.
* my computer