Sandy has settled in nicely, and we are so fond of her. She is mellow and snuggly, and I am glad every day that we adopted her.
We live in a neighborhood with outdoor cats who sometimes stroll through our back yard or take a nap on our steps. Sandy sees it as her sacred duty to chase them off when they transgress like that, but she has learned that they will run away lickety-split if they hear her coming.
So she has a plan: when we get halfway down the driveway, she changes her gait. She angles her body away from her tags and practically tiptoes, so the jingle at her collar won't give her away.
In the past couple of weeks I have observed that Sandy is very skeptical of fallen leaves. If she encounters a drift of dried leaves, she will jump over it or go around it. "They are not lava; you can go right through them," I have told her, but she doesn't appear to have much of a referent for lava and she just keeps hopping over them.
We always have a line of windblown leaves on the driveway side of our house, and Sandy avoids them to the best of her ability. I was crunch-crunching through them this morning as we returned from our walk. Suddenly Sandy stopped short, mid-sidle, and gave me a look I can only describe as reproachful.
"Jamie," she said with her eloquent eyes, "I am doing my very best to ambush The Enemy. But how am I supposed to ambush The Enemy when you are making all that ruckus in the leaves?"
She returned to her stalking and I did my best to walk more quietly. No feline trespassers today, but I am sure Sandy's vigilance will pay off soon.
Recent Comments