Cats are strange animals. I think this particular one has been so coddled and spoiled by me that she developed a few extra eccentricities.
This morning I go downstairs to feed the dog. I don’t bother to latch the door to the stairwell all the way, even though I know I’m risking the cat sneaking downstairs, where she is not allowed. However, Loa is watching birds in the window, so I figure she won’t even notice that the door is slightly ajar.
As I am feeding Cameron, I hear the tell-tale squeak that means Loa has discovered the door and is nudging it open so she can come downstairs.
[Side note here to say that Paul is clearly the pack/pride leader in our family. While Loa might sneak downstairs when he is there, she will hide and skulk and try to avoid detection. With me, she marches around the room proudly, demanding to be petted.]
So Loa walks into the room and starts investigating the dog food, despite my yells and scoldings for her to get back upstairs. Once my hands are free, I grab her and quickly carry her up the stairs. Much to my chagrin, she seems to view the trip as snuggle time and not punishment.
On the way up the stairs, she is purring contentedly; however, halfway up the staircase she begins to struggle and panic. Worried that perhaps I have hurt her inadvertedly, I set her down at the top of the stairs and watch her for a few minutes. She’s whiny, but that’s her normal state, so I assume she’s okay.
A few minutes later, while I’m sitting in the living room, I hear Loa crying mournfully at the (now-closed) stairwell door. Her mewing is much quieter than the usual demanding tone, and she is pacing worriedly in front of the door, as if she has lost something very important.
Curious, I open the door and walk down the staircase, scanning each step as I go. Halfway down, I find …… dog food. A small, moist morsel of dog food.
Apparently Loa had smuggled the food up the stairs in her mouth while I carried her. When she dropped the piece of food, she proceeded to struggle and make such a fuss that I assumed I had hurt her. So then her only natural course of action was to mourn and cry over the food until “Mom” got it for her.
Yeah, she’s a spoiled kitty.
P.S. – I didn’t give her the food.
Rotten kittys! Gizmo has started finding and tumping EVERY glass of water I leave around and believe me when I say warming up bottles makes for glasses of water around. One on the bed, one off the desk, one on Matt’s desk, one in the living room. All dumped. Sigh. As if we weren’t tired enough.
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