Sunday, 13 August 2017

companion animals (not)

Mr Cool was not in for his breakfast.  His body clock seems to run on a longer than twenty-four hour cycle, whereby he will spend an entire day hanging around the house, and then disappear for most of the next day.  Yesterday was a sleeping-in-the-trug day, and so I wasn't entirely surprised when today was a nowhere-to-be-seen day, as I am slowly getting used to Mr Cool's way of doing things.  I'd still rather he waited faithfully outside the bedroom door every morning like Mr Fluffy.

When he hadn't shown up by half past twelve I tried calling for him.  Mr Fidget came trotting from the direction of the compost bins and bonfire heap, followed by Mr Cool at a leisurely pace, while Mr Fluffy bustled around the side of the house with a you-wanted-me expression.  I dished out half a tin of cat food between the three of them, and Mr Cool licked all the jelly off his and stalked off again.

That was the last I saw of him until mid afternoon, when I heard feline squeaking so faint I checked in case I had accidentally locked a cat in the laundry room, but it was Mr Cool out on the drive, carrying a large mouse which he proceeded to eat, starting at the head end.

The third time I saw him he strolled into the kitchen, sat under the table ignoring my blandishments to come and be stroked, and eventually allowed me to pick him up and cuddle him, though really he wanted his tea.  Once he'd had that he went back out.  The Systems Administrator saw more of him than I did, because Mr Cool went to sit with the SA under a tree in the back garden, but I don't really feel I've had an adequate daily fix of a pet as adored as Mr Cool is.

I expect we will see more of him come the winter, once it is wet and cold, since Mr Cool appears to regard being rained on as a personal outrage.  The Systems Administrator said we had better hope we didn't get too many long wet spells.  Mr Cool got quite grumpy enough the other day when it rained for twelve hours, pacing about the house and sitting on the doormat staring out thunderously through the glass door at the rain.  I don't like to imagine what he'd be like after a week confined to barracks.

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