“Is there something out there?” I asked, kneeling behind Freddie at the back door. “Do you see any t’ings?”
He ignored me, his full attention on the dark yard. I could see his nostrils flaring gently as he took in the scents too.
“You have to tell me if dere are t’ings,” I said, falling into the baby voice I always used with him.
He frowned at me, then turned his attention back to the yard.
I stood and flipped on the light. We stared outside together for a few minutes, then I looked down at him. “I don’t see anything,” I said, turning the light back off. He didn’t move from his post.
A gentle reminder of how we do things: 🐱🐶🐦
- Do not troll the diary. If you hate pootie diaries, leave now. No harm, no foul.
- Please do share pics of your fur kids! If you have health/behavior issues with your pets, feel free to bring it to the community.
- Pooties are cats; Woozles are dogs. Birds... are birds! Peeps are people.
- Whatever happens in the outer blog STAYS in the outer blog. If you’re having “issues” with another Kossack, keep it “out there.” This is a place to relax and play; please treat it accordingly.
- There are some pics we never post: snakes, creepy crawlies, any and all photos that depict or encourage human cruelty toward animals. These are considered “out of bounds” and will not be tolerated. If we alert you to it, please remember that we do have phobic peeps who react strongly to them. If you keep posting banned pics...well then...the Tigress will have to take matters in hand. Or, paw.
He didn’t spend the whole night at the back door. Eventually he found my lap and the furry blanket spread over it and curled up to sleep as I read my book and relaxed.
It was how we usually ended the day unless it was too hot.
But he was unsettled. Every now and then he’d lift his head and sniff the air, catching whatever information he could contained in the gentle breeze through the screen door.
“What’s out there,” I whispered to him, stroking his fur. He gave a little shrug and laid his head back down on my ankle.
“You have a duty to tell me,” I insisted.
“Human, I don’t know. Sleep now,” he grunted.
“Must not be anything scary then,” I said.
He made a noncomittal sound and went to sleep.
Freddie joined me on my bed once I had gotten comfortable and turned out the light. He walked confidently to my head and nosed my arm, insisting without words that I move it so he could settle in and be held. I obliged.
We sighed together, happy and comfortable.
In my middle age, however, I couldn’t stay in that position for long. My hip started to ache. “Sorry,” I murmured, carefully unwinding my arm from around his body. He grumbled a little, but moved enough to let me roll over onto my back. Once I stopped moving, he climbed up onto my chest and settled there. “You’re a needy guy tonight,” I observed, petting him as I knew he wanted.
He closed his eyes and purred gently.
I considered that he might be sick but quickly discarded that. When he didn’t feel good he didn’t want to be held and petted. He would go off to be on his own. So it wasn’t that.
I focused my eyes on his face, lit by the moonlight from the window above the bed. “Did something spook you?” I asked.
There was a slight hiccup in his purr, but he didn’t stop.
“What’s in the backyard?” I asked again.
He moved one paw to rest on my lips.
I woke a few times through the night and each time Freddie demanded my attention. I was a little surprised that he had spent so much time on my bed; he usually comes and goes as he prowls his territory.
“Feeling okay?” I asked, sitting up and shutting off my alarm.
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked back, stretching.
“Hmm,” I said, but let it pass. I wrapped my robe around me and headed for the door, hearing him jump off the bed to follow me.
While he ate, I looked out the back door. There was nothing unusual about it, nothing out of place, nothing added or removed. I shrugged and set about starting my day.
That night I returned home to a dryer that was not working, a mother who was trying to arrange to have it repaired, and a cat who didn’t care one way or another as long as his bowl got filled on time.
I did that, then went to get an update on the dryer situation.
She had gotten our repair woman on the phone and they had agreed that her partner would come out that night to take a look. “You can’t go a week without a dryer,” she had generously said. “I’ll tell Freddie,” I told my mother, grimly.
He took it well, mostly just wanting to curl up on my lap and ignore anything else that was happening. That’s where he was when the man arrived.
He grinned down at Freddie. “I like him,” he told me.
“I like him too!” I agreed.
Freddie preened.
Freddie managed to ignore what was happening down the hallway for about fifteen minutes, then he left my lap to go supervise. I was pleased that he wasn’t too nervous about the situation, only mildly curious.
I gave him a few minutes, then got up to make sure he wasn’t making a nuisance of himself. The man had seemed friendly towards cats, but that didn’t mean he wanted one up in his face while he worked.
The dryer was in pieces, and my cat was a moderate distance away, watching silently. I bent down to pet him.
“Can you show me where it vents?” he asked my mom, and she walked him outside. I looked down and made eye contact with my cat. “What do you think?” I asked.
“He’s noisy,” he answered.
I waved my hand toward the disassembled appliance. “It’s kind of hard to do that quietly,” I said.
We both looked up as the repairman reentered the hallway and walked back to the service porch. “There was a rabbit in your yard!” he declared, smiling delightedly.
I looked back down at Freddie. “Really?!” I asked him.
He flattened his ears.
Less than an hour later, we were back on the couch, the soft sound of the dryer working properly in the background. Freddie was back on my lap, cleaning his fur fastidiously.
“A rabbit, huh?” I asked.
He paused his ablutions, then started again, not answering.
“It’s a prey animal,” I continued. “It’s more scared of you that you are of it.”
“Not scared,” he said between licks.
I snorted.
He lifted a back leg and got to work on it.
“Let’s not let this become another duck situation,” I said.
His eyes shot to mine, the back leg still pointing up at the ceiling. “They are like ducks?!” he demanded.
Yes, I thought. “No,” I said.
He lowered his leg, not breaking eye contact with me.
“They aren’t,” I insisted. “You have absolutely no reason to be scared of a rabbit.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he muttered, returning to his bath.
Happy Caturday, Peeps! And happy Valentine’s Day!!
Guess what?? We have rabbits!
I am happy about this development, even though it does not necessarily bode well for my boysenberries. Freddie is holding judgement for now.
