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Jungle Cat
Jul. 9th, 2009 03:10 pmCornelius has a new hobby which might lead to his untimely death.
Every morning (or rather night...) at the first light of dawn, i.e. around 4.30 a.m., he starts prowling the flat, howling like the mother of all coyotes. Maybe he thinks he's Jungle Cat, or maybe it's some strange kind of cat-Balkanization, I don't know. What I *do* know is that he wakes me. Today I was unable to go back to sleep and so got up at 5.00.
Problem: I'd just started scolding the stupid fat cat, telling him I'd kill him slowly and painfully, so that cat-mothers would tell their cubs about it for hundreds of years. What did he do? He purred loudly, rubbed himself against me and plopped down to have his belly rubbed. Impossible to go on reading the riot act, because he was being so wonderfully cute...
Astonishingly enough, I'm not even very tired. Which is a good thing, because tonight I'm invited to the good-bye reception for the Defence Attaché -- very strange feeling, BTW, being actually invited to the Ambassador's residence, I'll have to get used to that -- and want to be awake in order to ogle all the uniformed men.
Tomorrow I'm going to a Patti Smith concert, of all things. Charlie (real name Karl-Heinz, but everybody calls him Charlie), our visa officer, got three tickets, and so I'm going with him and his girlfriend. It looks as if I'm actually getting a life. The strangeness of it...
Every morning (or rather night...) at the first light of dawn, i.e. around 4.30 a.m., he starts prowling the flat, howling like the mother of all coyotes. Maybe he thinks he's Jungle Cat, or maybe it's some strange kind of cat-Balkanization, I don't know. What I *do* know is that he wakes me. Today I was unable to go back to sleep and so got up at 5.00.
Problem: I'd just started scolding the stupid fat cat, telling him I'd kill him slowly and painfully, so that cat-mothers would tell their cubs about it for hundreds of years. What did he do? He purred loudly, rubbed himself against me and plopped down to have his belly rubbed. Impossible to go on reading the riot act, because he was being so wonderfully cute...
Astonishingly enough, I'm not even very tired. Which is a good thing, because tonight I'm invited to the good-bye reception for the Defence Attaché -- very strange feeling, BTW, being actually invited to the Ambassador's residence, I'll have to get used to that -- and want to be awake in order to ogle all the uniformed men.
Tomorrow I'm going to a Patti Smith concert, of all things. Charlie (real name Karl-Heinz, but everybody calls him Charlie), our visa officer, got three tickets, and so I'm going with him and his girlfriend. It looks as if I'm actually getting a life. The strangeness of it...
