Breakfast on the Floor

I am sitting on the floor in the kitchen, leaning up against the cabinet, drinking my coffee. Trygg is eating breakfast. This is what led up to this new arrangement.

I wake up this morning, reasonably early. No Trygg. I go out to the kitchen to pour my coffee. I see Trygg sitting in the parlour in his bathrobe, sulking. He's sitting in my spot.

I go into the kitchen. The coffee pot hasn't been plugged in. I plug it in. I can see that Trygg hasn't had breakfast yet. He's scrupulous about putting his dishes in the sink when he's finished and there are no dishes in the sink. Also he's scrupulous about plugging in the coffee. I don't say anything. I think I know what this is all about.

Last night, I sat in Trygg's chair. Trygg's chair is an overstuffed armchair in the parlour. It used to be my chair. But that was before Trygg came along. I switched to the sofa. Also before Trygg came along.

After Trygg moved in, he started to feel his way around. At one point he started taking his evening nap on the chair before going to bed. Then he started sitting on the back of the chair during the afternoons. Lately, he hasn't been using the chair at all.

I thought nothing of sitting in this comfortable, stuffed, armchair early yesterday evening. After I did, Trygg jumped up onto the back of the chair. I thought he was being friendly. So, I turned to start to pet him. He made a gesture as if he were about to nip me. I scolded him. "No biting." He swiped at me with his paw. Well, I said to myself, if that's the way you want to be, fine. I went to sit on the sofa.

Trygg got up and went to the door. I figured he wanted to make a statement. I was tempted not to let him out. But I decided to be the better person. I opened the door and let him out. Later, when he returned, everything sort of blew over.

This morning, I thought he was miffed about last night. He sometimes accuses me of over reacting. I sometimes accuse him of letting things fester. But it never gets out of hand. I mean, we're guys. When we have a little tiff, we just man up and move on. But this had nothing to do with the incident on the chair.

After I pour my coffee I sit down at the table to have my coffee. Trygg looks up.

"That's right. Sit at the table. It always has to be your way, doesn't it?"

I get up, go into the parlour, and sit next to Trygg on the sofa and look right at him.

"Okay, Trygg. What's bothering you?"

"Don't I always plug in the coffee pot every morning so you can have your coffee when you get up?"

"Yes. And I always thank you. And sometimes I return the favour by doing your dinner plates, and helping you make your bed, even though those are some of your chores. You do get an allowance."

"It's not about the money."

"What's it about?"

"When it's time for dinner, don't I always join you?"

"Yes, you do. And we're happy for the company."

"And when you have dinner, don't you always have dinner at the table?"

"Yes. No eating in the parlour. Except on special occasions."

I pause. I am beginning to see what this is all about.

"Go on," I say.

"Did you ever think that some mornings it would be nice if your joined me for breakfast on the floor?"

Now I see what has Trygg in his sulky mood.

"All right, let's go."

Trygg looks up and gives me a big smile. He takes off his bathrobe--

"First let me hang this up."

"That's okay. I'll hang it up when I go in to shave."

"Thank you."

I get up and go into the kitchen bringing my coffee with me. Trygg walks along next to me. He's looking up at me, beaming. I keep forgetting that, even though he doesn't say it, he does look up to me.

In the kitchen, I open up Trygg's breakfast, put it on his plate, and put his plate on the floor. I sit down next to him to have my coffee as he eats breakfast.

When we're through he says, "I'll get the dishes."

"That's okay. I'll do them later. You can lick yourself and go out to meet your friends."

"Thank you. And thanks for having breakfast with me on the floor."

"Actually, I enjoyed it."

After letting Trygg out, I pour another coffee and go into the parlour to watch the news.

Even the cat winks =^.~=


Sincerest regards,

Slim

Male slimfairview@yahoo.com


Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview

Trygg Likes Miranda. How do I know?

Miranda has a cat. How do I know this? I am watching Sex and the City. Why? This is what happened.

I'm channel surfing. It is my night for the remote. Trygg walks by. He sees me pass Sex and the City. He asks me for the remote. We both know it's my night for the remote. However, he let me have one of his nights last week so I can hardly say, no. I give him the remote.

He clicks back to Sex and the City. He thought it was Sex and the Kitty. Still, that is not what really caught his attention. What really caught his attention was the fact that Miranda has a cat lying in her bed. Trygg is very big on the issue of cats in the media. Specially on television.
As Trygg put it:

"Did you ever see a sofa in a movie theatre?"

"No."

"That's why you never see cats in movie theatres."

We watch Sex and the City. Carrie walks her boyfriend's dog. Trygg gives me back the remote. I start to set up the coffee for the morning. Trygg sees me starting to turn out the lights and knows that bedtime is scant seconds away. He sits by the door to go out. Very nonchalant. He doesn't really expect this trick to work. It doesn't. Off we go, to bed. And to sleep. Me, straight away. Trygg, goes to lie on the back of the sofa. I don't really know what time he went to bed.

This morning, Trygg sees me watching football. Wolverhampton v. Everton. Trygg is still feeling guilty about what happened two weeks ago. I'm a Wolverhampton supporter. Trygg is an Arsenal supporter. My team is in the bottom three. Trygg's team is in the top three.

Bragging rights are one thing. Trygg was a bit mean spirited about it. What bothers him the most is that I decided to just man up and take it. That made Trygg feel worse. Then I felt guilty because I knew that it would. Detente.

This morning he comes in and sits beside me on the sofa. The Wolves--0, lose to Everton--3.

Trygg is rooting for the Wolves. I don't say a word. He looks up at me, and pokes me.

"What?"

"I'm rooting for the Wolves."

"Why?"

"The Wolves are in gold.

"And?"

"Well, after all, I am a "golden" Tabby." (Officially, he's an orange Tabby. Still, his words, not mine. And I do appreciate the sentiment.)

My Wolves lose. Trygg is sympathetic. I get up to get dressed to leave. By the time I leave Trygg is already gone. Even the cat winks =^.~=

Regards,

Slim


Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview

Trygg Shows His True Character

At 8:30 this morning I am sitting on the kitchen floor playing with Trygg. Sounds okay. Here's the rest of the story.

Last night we went to bed early. Trygg decides to sleep on the bed. (Not his.) He is on my wife's side. My wife doesn't want to move because she is afraid she will wake him up. Good idea, except that she forgot to tell Trygg.

1:30 am (Another time that comes twice a day.) Trygg wakes up. He wakes me up. He wants to go out. I let him out and go back to sleep.

What happens between 1:30 and 5:30 is vague. He was in and out. My wife and I took turns. The last thing I remember is my wife telling me to turn off the alarm when got back to bed at 5:30. I go to turn off the alarm. Trygg already switched it off.

My wife got up next. She started the coffee. She came back to report that Trygg wanted to be petted while he was eating. My wife points out that this is a relatively new problem. I think Trygg is starting to feel insecure about something. After all, this is about the time of year just before we first saw him skulking about. It would be a couple of months before he felt comfortable enough to come close enough for us to feed him.

He is out again. Then he comes back. I'm finishing my coffee and two English muffins. I put my things in the sink. I go to shave.

Trygg comes to watch me shave. I don't see him. My wife comes in to tell me he's been sitting there watching me. I follow him out. He leads me to the kitchen. He eats his dry food, he eats his canned food. I sit on the floor to pet him. He starts rolling around like he's having a deep rub massage.

I ask my wife to get Trygg's toy. This is when I remembered how Trygg revealed his true character.

After he started living with us I made him a toy. I sprinkled some catnip on a napkin, rolled it up, and tied it into a knot. Sometimes we play with it together. Sometimes he plays with it by himself. He seems to have a great imagination. He just never tells me what he imagines this toy to be. But I digress.

After Trygg and I played with the toy the first couple of times, he came to me and said,

"Do you know what I really like about you?"

"What?"

"This." He holds up the toy.

"It's nothing special, Trygg."

"It is to me. You see, anyone else would have just gone to the cheap store and bought a toy with no thought. Other people would have filled the place with a lot of fancy stuff. But not you. You took the time and trouble to make something special for me. You put thought into it. And you take the time to play with me. That means a lot to a cat. A lot."

I started to get misty. So much for the aloof cat thing. Trygg really opened up. He not only appreciates the toy, he actually opened up to share his feelings with me.

The bonding time this morning was special for both of us. I went off to shower and get dressed. Trygg started to lick himself clean. By the time I was ready to leave, he was already out with his friends. He'd put his toy away. I left for work. Even the cat winks =^.~=

Regards,

Slim

Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview