I’ve been trying to work out feline mentality. Yesterday, six nights after
Ozzy the cat’s owner collected the wanderer from Marchbanks Towers I heard a familiar mewing…
…and I’m left wondering why he walks the best part of a mile to listen to my choice of music. I could believe that he simply got lost on one occasion, but not twice inside three weeks. “It’s because you fed him, you feeble-minded old fool!” I hear you say. To which I reply “Doesn’t he get fed at home? Why become a wandering hobo taking a punt on finding enough suckers to feed you rather than staying where there is a guaranteed full bowl every night?” He doesn’t go home after a night’s travels - his owner told me he was missing for a full ten days when I saw him every night on his last trip here.
But as a control I refused to give in to his requests last night. After peering over the top of the table to see if there was any cheese left on my plate (there wasn’t) he sat listening to melodic-end Zorn for twenty minutes then legged it in the direction of the village (ie further away from home.) Now to see if he comes back tonight.