This is what happened.
About two weeks ago, Trygg came to me to ask if he and his friends could go camping over the weekend.
(Camping?)
It turns out; this was supposed to be a back yard thing. I’m thinking, a rope between two trees, and a blanket over the rope, some ghost stories, sandwiches, snipe hunt for the kittens. I give him permission.
It turns out the tent is a pup tent. I know this because Trygg asked me to help him set it up, not because I found the box from L. L. Bean
.
.
(He brought the ruler so that put him in charge.)
Well, after packing a few things to eat, off they go.
I give it a day or two then go out to check up on them. No Trygg. No cats. The kittens run to hide whenever I go outside so that is no help.
My wife starts to worry. I tried covering for Trygg the first day or two, but now we have to go out walking to look for him. My wife is starting to think we won’t see him again. The way I see it, the longer he stays away the more afraid he is to come home.
(I was his age once. The longest I stayed away was an afternoon. However, as Trygg points out, I am not a cat.)
The weekend comes and goes. A neighbor did report seeing him on the table on the front porch when we were away, but left.
Four days later, he returns.
I hear the “thump”, his thump, early—very early—one morning. I recognise Trygg’s thump. I get up to let him in. He skulks over to his food dish. I don’t say a word. I go back to bed.
“What is it?”
“He’s back. I let him in.”
My wife is beside herself with tears.
“After my wife goes out, I tell Trygg he’s grounded until further notice.”
He says nothing. He skulks off to his bed. He stops.
“Aren’t you going to take away my iPad privileges?”
“No. Being responsible is your responsibility. I am not going to be your nanny.”
A few days go by. Trygg seems to be under the weather. (We did have the big thunderstorm.) He sneezes a bit. He knows not to play the sympathy card.
I know he’s not well because he comes out in his robe and slippers with the ear thermometer hanging out of his ear. Normally I would find this funny. Not now.
Now I am starting to become concerned. He is starting to act like a house-guest instead of a house-cat.
His modus operandi is simple. He wants to eat, he comes in, wakes me up, I follow him into the kitchen, sit on the floor, and watch him eat. If I am up, he comes over to the sofa, meows; I get up, follow him into the kitchen, sit on the floor, and watch him eat.
Now, things are different. He lies on the floor, instead of the back of the sofa, and doesn’t say anything. If I get up to go into the kitchen to get something, he follows me in to eat. He seems too embarrassed or uncomfortable to eat unless I go into the kitchen first. (He’s a good house-guest, but that is not the point. He is supposed to be a part of the family.)
He isn’t coming in at night to sleep on the bed. He started using his litter box instead of asking me to let him out. He still uses his napkin, puts his dishes in the sink, and makes his bed, but I get the impression something is bothering him beyond simply being grounded.
Yes, I did try talking to him about it. He just says he and his friends decided to go off exploring and lost track of the time.
That’s his story and he’s sticking to it.
Even the cat winks =^.~=
Regards,
Slim
Copyright © 2011 Slim Fairview
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