Sometimes being carried, petted, fed, and sweet-talked just tires a cat out. Buddy was exhausted after a morning of being catered to and coddled.
Poor, poor Buddy - how could you treat him like that Jane? I've said it before - it's a hard life being a cat.
Reminds me of my childhood. I occasionally visited an aunt and uncle who lived in a big Victorian house near the river at Hampton Court. Thery had a big bull terrier, "Trigger," he was mostly white. He was a really lovely dog. I was at their house one day and I could hear the dog crying in another room. When I went in my 18 month old cousin was sitting on the floor and had trigger by the ear and was trying to poke her finger up the dog's nose. Trigger always had several of these small brown scorch marks on his side. He liked to sit inside the big old fashioned kerb of the hearth of the fire in the living room. They didn't have big fires in those days so he liked to get as close as possible to it. Coal in the fifties often used to "spit." Bits of hot coal would occasionally fly out of the fire and land on his side. He'd whimper a bit, but was too lazy to move!
Netty, Eileen, Mart, Island, our cats do have a harsh existence. They remind us of it daily as they are being carried around getting their tummies rubbed, eating grilled salmon (I won't finish all my salmon steak with those three little faces staring at me), and lounging on the porch or garden table, supervising the humans at work. If the SPCA finds out about us, we are in big trouble.
I would imagine after a hard work chasing rodents and competing with the other cats that buddy deserved a day or two off. Jerry
Jerry, our cats don't chase rodents, nor do they compete with each other. We refer to them as the "fearsome threesome" but only because they know how to demand, and how to make their demands known.
