I think it’s probably time to admit it. I am fast turning into an Old Cat Lady. (I would have missed out the ‘old’ but the two boys I sit with at work caught me on a button website recently and rightly pointed out that I was doing myself no favours. They were so preeety though – the buttons, not the boys).
So the reason I think this? Since Charlie Cat disappeared, Norman has changed personality…although I’m not sure what or whose personality he’s taken on. I just know that he’s more entertaining than most people…and that is probably a sign that I am a little obsessed.
He’s now almost perfected his forward roll. This is not a joke. He rushes around like a mad thing, jumps on the back of the sofa and rolls off onto the seat. One day I will catch this on camera so people don’t think I am hallucinating.
If I go over the road to talk to Sister 1 as she hangs out her bedroom window he comes too, sits and waits for us to chat, then wanders home with me.
He has now learned the word ‘ham’ and rushes to the fridge to await a treat if I utter the word. (Only small pieces and not that often – I thought it might stop him bringing home the neighbours dinner). He also begs like a dog as soon as the ham is in my hand.
As I think most cats do, if I’m working from home and he requires attention he stands across the laptop. The postman has frequently caught me with my chin on Normans back so I can see the screen and my arms around his legs so I can keep typing. (this is usually unsuccessful as I can’t touch type and need to see the keys at all times).
And he is clever. A few nights back there was a commotion under my bed, which I decided to ignore (very little is important enough to interrupt my sleep). In the morning I followed a trail of chaos in the kitchen. It turned out that Norman had got through the barricade I’d built around his cat treats, picked a full tub, removed the lid and the foil cover, dragged the lot under my bed and had a midnight feast…
Then there is just weird stuff. A couple of times in the last week I woke myself up having full on panic attacks (this is not something I advise – it’s really scary!) I couldn’t get air into my lungs however hard I tried. Both times, Norman had been sitting on my chest. I can’t work out if that is what has caused the panic attacks or if he had realised something was wrong and was poised, ready to start CPR if required… Well, I wouldn’t put either past him :o)