Gazing Out The Bathroom Window
Sure enough, there is Sitka Rollover waiting for me. He would like, if it’s not too much trouble, his evening meal and a brushing down. The brushing is done with my comb and he flops down on the floor while I do one side; then he rolls over while I do the other. Then flat on his back … one side … the other side. “Rollover” is a good last name.
He used to wait for me in the parlor window and still does when Cindy is home. But when I am the sole means of support (that is, I know how to open the fridge), he appears in the bathroom window as he would when she gets home. I guess I move up in rank from “parlor” to “bathroom,” with bathroom being a step up.
Then there is the leaving ritual. When Cindy is home, he blocks the door and knows just when to do it. She has to do all sorts of things so I can get out. When I’m there alone, it’s no problem: he just goes to his bed in the kitchen, flicks his tale and I leave. Some day I’ll have to figure that dynamic out.
The cat’s favorite spot? Anywhere it can lean up against something. Some clothes, a blanket, whatever. It’s fine stretching out on the floor, or lying there paws tucked under. But for a nap or sleeping, it’s gotta be leaning. No curl-up end-of-bed for this one. I have to go over for supper soon and will check the bathroom window.