After taking 40 pics this morning, this is the only one where Mao is actually standing...although I think that gleam in his eye is not due to the camera flash. Mao is a great cat--affectionate, sweet, loving. He adores Peter and often shows his affection by ambushing him when he walks by or gently waking him up by gnawing on his ear or tail.
On the other hand...people either love cats or really hate them. And Mao is the walking talking embodiment of what people find bizarre about cats. Now that I've spent a few days at home in the house with him (and granted, he was alone for 3 weeks, so he may just be overly happy to see me still) and there are issues. First, he talks. ALL. THE. TIME. He's banned from bedrooms because he loves to sit right on your chest and talk to you at 4 am about all his woes. He follows me through the house, talking non-stop. Meow, meow, meow, meow.
Ava and Noah collect things. All of Noah's elephants are missing their trunks. Ava has lo
st several cats' ears and tails. Yesterday morning, I watched Mao get on the bathroom counter and systematically knock each and every bottle off the counter. Very calmly. Later, I watched him try to clear the dining room ledge under the window. This explains a lot.
st several cats' ears and tails. Yesterday morning, I watched Mao get on the bathroom counter and systematically knock each and every bottle off the counter. Very calmly. Later, I watched him try to clear the dining room ledge under the window. This explains a lot.We have a large baobob tree made of banana leaves that we used as a Christmas tree in Tanzania. It's not long for this world now--Mao has gnawed holes, loosened branches and pounced it over and over every day.
He's very tidy. After he uses his litterbox, he is very careful to cover his business...he sometimes spends 10 minutes or so covering things up. Scratchscratchscratchscratchscratch.
This morning I was trying out a new yoga tape (which I'm sure is very relaxing once you can do the poses without your arms shaking like aspens in a windstorm and you catch your breath). Mao spent the 40 minutes racing back and forth through the house. Up and over the furniture (my leather chair bears scars now). Under and over the table. Up and down the stairs. Back arched, tailed puffed. No leaf on any plant is safe. A brief pause to clear the dining room table of my cell phone, a basket of pens and pencils, and 3 dvds, then back to racing through the house.
He really is something else. I just never noticed it before at this level.
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