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There's this bloke in the SCA called Michael (which may or may not be his real name as well as his SCA name). He lives in the USA somewhere; he's not very young and not very well; and his best friend is a cat called Explorer (though she's not too well named, really, as she is an indoor cat). Pretty much every day, often more than once a day, you get a post on the SCA Discord server from Explorer telling the world how she's looking after her human. While he's not confined to bed, he does tend to end up there quite a lot due to the various things he has wrong with him, and she's always ready to come and snuggle and keep him company.
Well, today Michael and Explorer have had some snow. Explorer is quite happy not to have to go out in it, and Michael's thinking he'll wait a while before he pops out for some milk. It's not a whole lot of snow (just enough to look pretty, really, though if Michael is unsteady on his feet I can see why it might be a problem for him). But it did remind me of something.
As I think I've previously mentioned, Minsky was the local Boss Cat. He'd been neutered, of course; but so had all the other cats in the neighbourhood, and Minsky was quite bright enough to understand that a) there was a vacancy, and b) you didn't need nadgers to fill it, so long as you had brains. And first-class reflexes. He had both, so he duly stepped into the breach (well, someone had to), and for quite a few years he was the best Boss Cat ever. He liked things to be peaceful on his patch. He was the only cat I've ever known who actually stopped fights. There would, of course, be the very occasional cat who'd insist on fighting Minsky; Minsky would do his best to persuade the other cat that violence solves nothing, but, if it wouldn't listen, it would rapidly find itself upside down in a flower bed being looked at, and it would never try that again.
Cats tend to like to go to the loo on the edge of their territory, which meant I had no idea where Minsky preferred to go to the loo, because his territory was huge. All I knew was he didn't like the litter tray, and wouldn't use it unless there was no other sensible option. I think he thought litter trays were for wimps and kittens. That was fine... until the morning we woke up to 60 cm of snow.
You couldn't faze Minsky. He eyed up the snow, then squared his mighty shoulders, launched himself into it, and actually swam about half the length of the back lawn, until he got to the point where he'd normally have ducked under the fence. At this point, the brain kicked in; he stopped, and you could see exactly what he was thinking. It was: "Oh. I have no idea how much snow is piled up on the other side of the fence. This isn't safe, is it? &£*!?$%!!!"
He turned round and looked straight at me, by which time, of course, he was wearing a little hat made of snow. And he quoth "Mwap!"
"OK," I replied. "I know. Come on in, and I'll set up the litter tray."
So he did, and I did, and all was well.
If he was still with us, I think I wouldn't tell him Explorer doesn't want to go out.
Well, today Michael and Explorer have had some snow. Explorer is quite happy not to have to go out in it, and Michael's thinking he'll wait a while before he pops out for some milk. It's not a whole lot of snow (just enough to look pretty, really, though if Michael is unsteady on his feet I can see why it might be a problem for him). But it did remind me of something.
As I think I've previously mentioned, Minsky was the local Boss Cat. He'd been neutered, of course; but so had all the other cats in the neighbourhood, and Minsky was quite bright enough to understand that a) there was a vacancy, and b) you didn't need nadgers to fill it, so long as you had brains. And first-class reflexes. He had both, so he duly stepped into the breach (well, someone had to), and for quite a few years he was the best Boss Cat ever. He liked things to be peaceful on his patch. He was the only cat I've ever known who actually stopped fights. There would, of course, be the very occasional cat who'd insist on fighting Minsky; Minsky would do his best to persuade the other cat that violence solves nothing, but, if it wouldn't listen, it would rapidly find itself upside down in a flower bed being looked at, and it would never try that again.
Cats tend to like to go to the loo on the edge of their territory, which meant I had no idea where Minsky preferred to go to the loo, because his territory was huge. All I knew was he didn't like the litter tray, and wouldn't use it unless there was no other sensible option. I think he thought litter trays were for wimps and kittens. That was fine... until the morning we woke up to 60 cm of snow.
You couldn't faze Minsky. He eyed up the snow, then squared his mighty shoulders, launched himself into it, and actually swam about half the length of the back lawn, until he got to the point where he'd normally have ducked under the fence. At this point, the brain kicked in; he stopped, and you could see exactly what he was thinking. It was: "Oh. I have no idea how much snow is piled up on the other side of the fence. This isn't safe, is it? &£*!?$%!!!"
He turned round and looked straight at me, by which time, of course, he was wearing a little hat made of snow. And he quoth "Mwap!"
"OK," I replied. "I know. Come on in, and I'll set up the litter tray."
So he did, and I did, and all was well.
If he was still with us, I think I wouldn't tell him Explorer doesn't want to go out.
