13/12/21 The Sometimes Cat

George has become a sometimes cat.  Sometimes she comes out from under the bed and sometimes, while I'm working, she sits on the window sill behind the lap top screen and watches me out of the corner of her eye.

The slightest sudden move sends her back under the bed. She tolerates Roger only if he is perfectly still. There is none of Buddy's sloppy adoration in this house.

George is also wary of cameras.

 

On Monday we went out for lunch with a different son and daughter in law, coming home stuffed full of Turkish cuisine. As we lolled on the couch, digesting, George came out from under the bed and watched carefully as we attempted to coax her with her favourite feather toy.  She could not be drawn to play.

Pretending there's nobody there.

On Tuesday she conceded that I existed, because I was right there beside the bed all day, beavering tediously away at work.

On Wednesday she became a contrary sometimes cat, asking for the bedroom door to be opened whenever I was on the phone, and then running and hiding under the bed when I left the desk to open the door.  Once she forgot herself sufficiently to join me at the desk and inspect my keyboard, allowing herself to be picked up and deposited back on the floor before retreating under the bed.

We have five weeks to turn George from a Sometimes Cat to an Everyday Cat.

I don't like our chances.