Yesterday afternoon, Max and I were having a lovely time sitting in the living room playing with his big tub of birthday quatros (like legos but bigger). Feeling relatively safe leaving him for a moment, I went into the kitchen to get myself a glass of water. As soon as I was out of sight, I heard the ominous sound of giggling. Everyone knows that a baby sitting alone in a room laughing is not good news. I hastened back into the living room and beheld the following:
Edgar, our cat, had been napping in the rocking chair when I left the room. Like myself, he apparently felt that his actions were relatively safe. Also like myself, he was mistaken. In my absence, Max had climbed into the rocking chair, and had discovered something new and exciting about gravity. If he sat on the very edge of the chair and bopped up and down, he could make Edgar bounce. The hilarity of this, combined with the effervescent burst of power, was making Max laugh hysterically. I could almost see poor Edgar rolling his eyes as he looked at me. I informed Max that he might fall off the chair, or receive a paw full of displeasure from the increasingly disgusted Edgar. Max listened to my lecture very respectfully.
And then he went right back to rocking and poking Edgar, the amusement not having diminished for him, or increased for Edgar, in the slightest.
Eventually, Edgar did take a half-hearted swipe at Max, leap down from the rocking chair, and leave the room, shooting me a significant glance as he did so. Edgar does not feel that his life or his place in our life have been enhanced by Max's arrival at all, and he likes me to understand that he continues living here and receiving food and pets under protest. His bitterness was evidently lost on Max completely, since my notorious cat-harasser of a son spent the next five minutes roundly applauding his own show. He asked Edgar to take a bow. Edgar declined from his new napping place deep under the bed.
Edgar, our cat, had been napping in the rocking chair when I left the room. Like myself, he apparently felt that his actions were relatively safe. Also like myself, he was mistaken. In my absence, Max had climbed into the rocking chair, and had discovered something new and exciting about gravity. If he sat on the very edge of the chair and bopped up and down, he could make Edgar bounce. The hilarity of this, combined with the effervescent burst of power, was making Max laugh hysterically. I could almost see poor Edgar rolling his eyes as he looked at me. I informed Max that he might fall off the chair, or receive a paw full of displeasure from the increasingly disgusted Edgar. Max listened to my lecture very respectfully.
And then he went right back to rocking and poking Edgar, the amusement not having diminished for him, or increased for Edgar, in the slightest.
Eventually, Edgar did take a half-hearted swipe at Max, leap down from the rocking chair, and leave the room, shooting me a significant glance as he did so. Edgar does not feel that his life or his place in our life have been enhanced by Max's arrival at all, and he likes me to understand that he continues living here and receiving food and pets under protest. His bitterness was evidently lost on Max completely, since my notorious cat-harasser of a son spent the next five minutes roundly applauding his own show. He asked Edgar to take a bow. Edgar declined from his new napping place deep under the bed.
2 comments:
aw poor baby kitty
he's becoming quite sassy in his old age
probably learned it from living with Isac
Apparently the combination of scots, english, and canadian also comes with a mischievous streak - which Max inherited from you along with the brilliant mind.
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