The cat came back: part four, or The Joyful Reunion With the Favourite Toy

So I was woken up this morning by a paw tapping my nose insistently. When he saw my eyes were open, he hopped down from the bed and sat in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder at me and miaowing. As I hauled myself groggily out of bed, he trotted a few steps on and paused again, looking back, miaowing again. At this point I assumed he wanted food, but then I saw his bowl was still full. Still doing the pausing, looking back, miaowing thing, he hung a left and led me into the living room. And sat down expectantly on his favourite toy. At which point I realized it had happened -- I'd been manipulated by my cat.

He had played this little trick on Kristen once or twice, but I hadn't yet fallen for it. Until today, that is.

What was this little game all about? He wanted to play with his favourite toy, and needed his dancing monkey to help him do so. It's a plastic rod with a string and a fluffy thing at the end, which he goes slightly insane chasing while you flick it around. It's very entertaining, too ... for a few minutes. After doing his manic leaps after the fluffy thing that apparently taunts him like a mocking Frenchman, he then goes into hunting mode -- hiding behind the endtable, under chairs, around the couch, etc. like a tiger in the foliage. At which point I'm expected to keep this toy almost motionless, twitching it slightly every few minutes ... until he comes bounding out of whatever hiding place he's in and pounces.

This toy, it's like crack to him. He will sit beside it and miaow mournfully at me, every few seconds giving it a tentative, sad little prod with his paw. It had been sitting in the trunk of my car since I moved here. I was reluctant to reintroduce the drug to the addict as it were, but he'd been going a little snakey these last few days. And now we're back to our old routine. Sigh.