Post by raspberrybullets on Mar 11, 2018 10:57:53 GMT
Sounds about the size of my Lily back in the day when she was nice and healthy. She got up to 8kg which is apparently 17.6 pounds.
The sight filled the northern sky; the imensity of it was scarcely conceivable. As if from Heaven itself, great curtains of delicate light hung and trembled. Pale green and rose-pink, and as transparent as the most fragile fabric, and at the bottom edge a profound fiery crimson like the fires of Hell, they swung and shimmered loosely with more grace than the most skillful dancer. ~ Northern Lights
He has now figured out how to get the hoomins up from their sleep to let him out....this morning, it was a blissfully late 5:30 am. He uses his weight to his advantage, of course...He 'catapults' from the bedroom floor up onto the bed with two sleeping humans. Sixteen pounds of stub love makes an impression, especially if it is presented on the edge of consciousness. He got out.
Cleo, on the other hand, who used to love to get up at 4 am to go out, then in, then out again, and back in, before going out...well, she wants to sleep in (she burrowed under the blankets to snooze) and when she awakens, she does not want food, nor to exit the building. No, she wants to play string. Nowadays, if Cleo is awake and there is a human in her presence, she wants the human to play string with her. She is monomanical. Incessant.
Why get up? Because the pounding from an airborne incoming fuzzwad continues to be repeated until somebody gets up and lets him out.
The time was not too bad, considering his sister wanted to get up at 3 am or 4 am to go out. She used to do 'stompies' until she got a response. But now, from what Swimmer reports, if she doesn't get an adequate response, she has figured out how to turn off Swimmer's CPAP. Evidently, just knocking valuables off the bedside table was not working so she 'stepped it up'. Literally.
My cats tried that too, but I ignored them. At some point they stopped. But yeah, I can underrstand how letting them have their way is easier sometimes. Tybbe especially can be yowling really annoyingly in the evenings. And when you finally give in and open the door, he just stands there looking at it saying "why did you open the door, silly, you're letting the cold in".
★ Friends are those rare people who ask how we are and then wait to hear the answer. ★
The Earth laughs in flowers ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Hamatreya"...
I was rustled from my comfy bed this morning to go see what it was he had cornered in the back yard.
I thought it might be a crow fledgling, but no....Murray had caught a mouse somewhere out in the garden and evidently spent the entire night playing with it. According to Swimmer, it was still live this morning, as she actually saw Murray carrying around the still live mouse.
I just went out to the balcony, and he is sacked out on the bench, oblivious to the world....snoring.
It is now official....Murray is a 'Mighty Hunter'.
I'd pointedly left the door shut, but ajar and not latched, and made sure the screen door was not pulled shut tight.
Sure enough, he did not harass us to arise and open the door to let him out at 4 - 4:30 am, and, the door was open catbutt width (aka 'whiskerwide').
He can get away with this because his stubby tail doesn't risk getting traumatized in the screen door, but I'm quite sure he learned the door opening techniques by watching and emulating his sister, who is a master at getting in to rooms, cabinets, and dusty, cobwebby places. I'm a bit amused that it is he that figured it out, rather than his sister. He's gonna be disappointed when cooler temperatures return and the door gets latched all the time.
So....Murray's 'favorite' (if there is such a thing) is the 'butt muncher', which he solicits regularly. If done 'right', he goes in to 'down dog' position while getting his butt munches and then does a tuck and roll in to what they call the 'Kali Ma', which are known as 'bellyrubs' or 'tummyrubs' in this house. Tummyrubs are encouraged to go on endlessly with Murray....don't try it with Cleo, though; she's not reliable and may spring the hand trap.
With Dave the Lodger now gone, the bedroom on the main floor is empty. Cleo has found it that way and is thoroughly enjoying the result and has taken to doing singing sessions in the empty room to take advantage of the echoing of her loud Abby voice off the hard walls. I have to close the room at night so she doesn't rouse the sleeping hoomins upstairs.
Murray is still damned smug about his ability to "slip out the back, Jack" (with considerably assistance from yours truly) at night. He's figured out that once out, he cannot get back in until a human opens the door for him...and gives him access to his food bowl. Once cold comes, the door will not be 'set' for him and we'll have to make other arrangements. I suspect he may opt to spend more time indoors....he _is_ a bedlump.