I had a dream last night. The only part I can now remember is explaining to someone that cats are the only animals that can speak to humans. Dogs bark, but cats talk in plain English. In my dreams, the cats do talk. It’s a pity this is not true in real life, though cats are very good at communicating with their human companions through expression and body language.
I would certainly like to know what’s going through Timmy’s head at the moment. Now that he’s off the clomicalm, he is back to terrorising the other two cats. My impression is that he wants to be top cat. All his life he has been the only cat in the household so maybe he regards his present situation in the same way and resents having to share. We express severe disapproval when he tries to bully Lizzie or Willy, and even though he does back off when one of us acts as a buffer zone, he will persist in stalking and menacing them when he feels that way inclined. It’s not as if he wants attention from us as he’s not the sort of cat you pick up and cuddle. He has a tendency to scratch and bite if you pat him too long or handle him in any way. He’s awfully pally when he wants food, but the rest of the time he minds his own business or lurks in doorways, waiting to menace, or at least inconvenience the other cats.
My BAFAB competition ends at midnight Friday 12 October, Eastern Australian time. So if you want to score a copy of Restoration by Rose Tremain you still have time to enter.