Trygg's Secret Social Life

Yesterday was a quiet Sunday. (Once my wife and I reconciled ourselves to Trygg's schedule.)

I don't have a problem with Trygg getting up early. Okay, very early. My wife, however, is seldom amused.

None-the-less, as a gracious turn, my wife put on the coffee and let me go back to sleep for another hour. I went for the papers, Trygg made his own breakfast, and all was quiet.

Outside, Pood and Friend were lying alternately on the picnic table or in the grass. Buddy's two spent the day. The boy in the grass, the little one under the bush. Cali came by for breakfast, but left early.

Now, the Penguin was by very early. Or very late. It all depends on how you define 3:30. I still don't know if Trygg considers that 3:30 am or 3:30 pm. He would, however, have to wait. Trygg wasn't about, and I am not running a diner. I told Trygg to pass the word on to his friends.

Now, it is usually considered rude to abandon your guests, but as the patio looked like a Frat-house the morning after, everyone sleeping about, I guess Trygg disappearing wasn't the worst thing. He ate about 1:30 then left. (In the afternoon.) The problem was, he didn't come back for supper. Or later that evening. And my wife was very upset.

We decided to go to bed about 10 but my wife decided to stay up another half an hour. When my wife came to bed, still no Trygg.

I didn't say anything to my wife, but I saw that when Trygg left, he didn't take his wallet or his cell phone. Now, I know if he wants to call me, he can always borrow someone's phone, but what if everyone decided to chip in for something? In addition to his allowance, I usually make sure that he has a few extra dollars for emergencies.

Trygg didn't come home til about 6 this morning. My wife was happy to see him. He knew I was miffed. Neither of us discussed the matter.

I don't know what I'm going home to, but I do expect an explanation. We're having sausage and mash with peas. If he has any sense, he'll come clean.

The only thing my wife said was that he must have slept somewhere because usually when he's gone a long time, the first thing he does is jump onto the bed and go to sleep. This morning he ate and went back out.

There will be a discussion.

Even the cat winks =^.~=

Regards,

Slim


Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview

slimfairview@yahoo.com

Cats are not Hypochondriacs

Trygg isn't getting aggressive, he's just been a bit cranky lately. I think he has a cold. He sneezed a few times. That, and he keeps walking around in his robe and slippers with a thermometer in his mouth.

(Drama Queen)

I don't say anything. He doesn't like being ignored. He says to me, "It's not about how much life in your cat, it's about how much cat in your life."

Even the cat winks =^.~=

Regards,

Slim

Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview

Trygg's Buddies and the Adjustment

Trygg seems to be adjusting well to domestic life (feline domesticus adoptus). The problem has been the other cats in the group. (The collective noun for the cats pretty much depends on Trygg's mood:

"When I first starting coming around there was this glaring of cats...."

"All I did was stop by for something to eat and I was confronted by a pounce of cats."

When he's feeling off, it's a dout of cats. (Doubt? A private joke between us.)

I suggested a nuisance of cats. Trygg agreed. Then he sort of gave me this look.....

Trygg and I are comfortable with a clouder of cats....

None-the-less, he's had a sort of mésalliance with Buddy. I always thought it was because Buddy was aggressive with Trygg when Trygg first started coming around. Then I found out it was jealousy. Trygg knew that Buddy was my first...well...buddy. Buddy left, then came back a few months later. That didn't go down well with Trygg.

Then there's Pood and Friend. They share a small studio they set up under a small back porch. There's no kitchen, so they usually come by for breakfast and dinner. This, long before Trygg started coming around. Still, I know that Trygg doesn't like it, but I have pointed out that he has the inside, his own bed, his own Smörgåsbord, use of the remote all afternoon and most nights, he should not be unkind, uncharitable, or ungracious. He was contrite. (I'm still waiting to find a dead mouse on the doorstep, but I'm not going to say anything. If it doesn't come from the heart then I don't want it.)

For a while it was rough on us both. He was very insecure. I believe Trygg was what we never refer to as "a throw-away". Perhaps the person he used to live with died. Still, he was in sad shape when he first came around. Physically and emotionally. He would go by the door to go out, then come back, hop on the table on the front porch to be let in, check his food, sit on the back of the couch, then get up to go out again. Some times he'd be gone for hours. Christmas he was out all night and did not come back until the following afternoon. The only thing I could do was to show him I still loved him and was happy to have him back.

Now, Trygg is getting better. He sleeps most of the day and almost all night. I am happy to see him adjust. (Happy not to have to wait up until midnight or 1 am for him to return.)

I think the blog helps too. Trygg didn't say anything about it when I first started writing it, but then, one day, he said to me, "I think writing this blog is really helping you. It seems to be a good thing for you to put your feelings down."

Even the cat winks =^.~=

Regards,

Slim

Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview

Cats do listen when we open up to them.

The other day, I was telling Trygg about a trip my wife and I took to Quebec a few years back.

We stayed at a romantic hotel in a centuries old home. Madame, the concierge, had switched us to a larger room in the front, overlooking a park, and the water.

Early in the morning, as my wife made the coffee, I ventured out to la patisserie to buy croissant, and au marche acheter des fruit.

When I returned, we opened the large window and sat on the window sill, drinking coffee, eating croissant and listening as the horse-drawn caleches rolled up the cobblestone street beneath our window. We were not on holiday in another country. We were on holiday in another century.

But you never know about cats. Just when you think it all falls on deaf ears, something happens.

When my wife and I returned home from Church the other night, the lights were out, a candle was lit on the coffee table in the parlour, a fire was burning (In the fireplace), and there was a plate out with a warm baguette, sweet butter and jam, a bottle of good claret, and some pastries. The bread was warm. (I knew Trygg couldn't have baked the bread himself. He hadn't had enough time. I figured he simply warmed it up in the oven.)

As my wife went to powder her nose, I just looked at Trygg and said. "Thank you."

"Not a problem."

I went over and rubbed my head on his. He, in turn, gave me a quick hug.

"I remembered that story you told me about Quebec."

"Oh."

When my wife came back into the room, Trygg smiled and said, "You two have a nice evening. I'll be out late. Very late."

I just smiled.

Then, just before he left, he turned and said, "Oh, by the way. I have a confession to make. I ate the camembert."

I just smiled.

Trygg left. I poured the wine.

Even the cat winks =^.~=

Slim

Playing Games with Trygg

I am sitting on the sofa, minding my own business, doing a crossword puzzle when Trygg jumps up on the sofa. He drops a pencil in my lap. He looks at me askance. I hold up the pen. He points to the crossword where I've had to write over my mistakes.

I get up, go to the closet where I keep the recycling and take out yesterday's puzzle. I show him where he left tears in the paper trying to erase the mistakes he'd made using the pencil.

A tactical retreat. Trygg goes to the closet and drags out the Scrabble game. We set it up. He doesn't exactly cheat. He just knows a lot of obscure and arcane words.

I don't know why he gives me that smug look every times he comes up with one of those words. He never wins. Still, it's nice to have someone to play Scrabble with.

Even the Cat Winks. =^.~=


Regards,

Slim

Trygg Celebrates St. Patrick's Day

I wake up a bit later than usual. On my own. Without benefit of Trygg.

I head to the bathroom. The door is closed. I knock. No answer. I knock again. Trygg opens the door. He's standing there in his bathrobe holding his toothbrush.

"Sorry."

"Isn't it always the way?" he says. "You always complain that I wake you early. Today I let you lie in and I can't even have a few moments to myself."

He leaves. I feel guilty.

I brush my teeth. The door opens. Trygg comes in, gets his dental floss out of the cupboard and leaves.

I go into the kitchen to get my coffee. I see him watching the parade. He's ignoring me. I go to pour my coffee. I see a shamrock and a note by my cup. "Happy St. Patrick's Day." I see a muffin with a slice of ham on it. The muffin is green. So is the ham. (It's the thought that counts.) None-the-less, I go in to thank Trygg and to apologise.

I put my arm around him.

"Happy St. Patrick's Day, Trygg."

He doesn't respond.

"I'm sorry. Thanks for the shamrock. And the green muffin and ham."

He looks up at me. (He looks up to me, too. He just won't admit it.)

"I wanted to make things nice for you. I saved the ham from St. Valentine's Day."

He sees the doubt.

"You're not supposed to eat the ham. It's the thought that counts."

I give him a hug. The pipers come on. He meows. Soon, I hear more meows. His friends are waiting for him outside. I let him out. I know I will see him later. Much later.

Even the Cat Winks. =^.~=

Regards,

Slim

Lunch with Trygg

Trygg invites me to have lunch with him. I already know this is a byob. Well, I go with a ham sandwich. Trygg has a few different things out to pick on. The same different things I've put down for him to eat.

I sit down, he samples my sandwich. I try to make small talk. He meows. Lunch, as you would imagine is very short and uneventful. Trygg signals that lunch is over when he starts to lick himself clean. I thank him for inviting me. He rubs his head on mine. I don't want to seem ungracious, so I rub my head on his.

Now, of course, I am obligated to return the invitation.

There is a lot to learn about the social life of cats.

even the cat winks =^.~=

Why do cats come home wet?

Trygg comes home. Through the window. I can see that he is wet. I follow him into the kitchen where he goes to check on his food. (He doesn't come out and say it, but I know he suspects me of nibbling at it.)

My wife looks at Trygg. "He's wet," she says.

"I know."

Trygg looks up, sees us looking at him, looks at me, looks at my wife, looks at me again, and his expression says it all. Blank stare:

"What's wrong?"

We start laughing, get towel, dry him off. He goes to eat. We are still wondering how he got wet. He denies he ever was wet. The towel's already been through the laundry, evidence gone. Another mystery.

Even the cat winks =^.~=

Regards,

Slim

Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview

Do you ever wonder what cats do at night?

I used to wonder what Trygg did when he was out. Til last night. He comes in, slams the door, pulls down the shades and says,

"Ill be on the bed sleeping. If anyone asks, I haven't been out of the house all night."

Even the cat winks. =^.~=

Regards,

Slim

Copyright (c) 2011 Slim Fairview