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Caturday Pootie Diary: It's you! [1]
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Date: 2023-05-27
I quickly got dressed to the music of the cat loudly slurping water from his dish in the next room. When I heard him slow, I walked back to the bathroom to brush my hair.
He stopped drinking and watched me as I groomed myself in front of the mirror. I finished up, then pointed at his reflection.
“Look!” I said.
He looked at my hand.
I tapped the mirror behind him. “Look,” I said again.
He followed the sound, finally looking into the mirror.
“That’s you!” I said.
He leaned forward and sniffed my finger.
“No, in the mirror, silly.”
He rubbed the side of his face against my hand.
“Not my hand,” I said, tapping his reflection with my finger again. “Look at you in the mirror.”
“What am I looking at?” he asked. “Is there some treats?”
“It’s you!”
He turned his head and looked at me. “It’s treats for me?”
“It’s just you! You’re very handsome!”
“I know,” he said, then walked to the edge of the counter and jumped off.
I paused halfway down the stairs to allow Freddie to run past. It was the best way to keep him from tripping me. He hit the ground floor and made a sharp turn to the right and raced up to the top of his kitty condo. It smacked the wall with a thump and bounced back. He automatically shifted his weight so it wouldn’t topple over on the rebound.
“Smooth,” I commented, following in his wake. I really needed to get my lunch made and my stuff put together to go to work, but I had a little time to spend with him.
I stroked his head and back, careful to avoid his paws and teeth. He tends to be bitey when he was on top of the condo. “I’m going to miss you today,” I told him.
He bit my wrist.
I withdrew my hand, laughing a little. As I turned to walk away, I noticed the picture on the wall.
“Look!” I said, lightly tapping the portrait of him in his military finery. “It’s you!”
He stretched out his neck and smelled the edge of the canvas. “It doesn’t smell like me,” he said.
“It’s a picture of you!” I said, still tapping it. “Look at your face!”
His eyes crossed.
“Not your face!” I said, laughing. “Your face! Right here!”
“Human, you don’t make any sense.”
Later that night, he and I reclined together on the couch, sleepily watching television. I picked up my phone. it lit up revealing my lock screen photo.
I turned it toward him. “Freddie!” I said, grabbing his attention. “It’s you!”
He sighed. “This again?”
“The lock screen!” It went dark and I tapped it once with my pointer finger. I showed it to him again. “See?”
He stretched out his neck to sniff it.
“It doesn’t smell like you,” I said. “It’s your picture.”
“I can make it smell like me,” he said, rubbing his head against the corner.
“I wasn’t done,” he complained as I took my phone back from him.
“You were,” I said, unlocking the screen. I opened my photo app and started scrolling through it. There were so many good pictures of him. “You are so photogenic,” I told him.
“I am pretty hungry,” he agreed.
I turned my eyes to him. “What?”
“I’m very photogenic,” he said. “I haven’t eaten all day.”
I shook my head. “’Photogenic’ means you look good in pictures,” I explained.
“Good and hungry,” he replied.
I snorted.
I enlarged an especially good picture of him. “It’s you,” I said, showing him the picture.
“Bring it closer,” he demanded.
I obeyed. He immediately started rubbing his head aggressively all over my phone. I waited patiently for him to finish.
“There,” he said, finally stopping. “Now it’s me.”
Happy Caturday, Peeps! I always show Freddie his pictures here on Al Gore’s internet, but he never seems impressed.
[END]
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