Djinn
Djinn has been meowing at me lately. He never has been much of a talker, quiet as a mouse I’d say. I’ve changed his diet and he only gets fed when he’s hungry. And he has to tell me. He used to have food on tap which I think is a bad idea for any domestic creature, man or animal. A case of too much of a good thing is a b…. .
He doesn’t meow like other cats, he only opens his mouth with an OW without the ME. It’s peculiar, like he needs to be treated special. But he is a beautiful cat and I love his presence.
He follows me around the house during the day. If I’m sitting he often comes and wants to sit in my lap. Except on occasion I don’t let him anymore because with all the rain it’s flea time and I don’t need anything else biting me. I don’t need to be scratching any more.
He likes to sleep in box’s, cool dark places where he won’t be disturbed. Like under the computer table. But often he’s right behind me when I turn around to go get something. Him and Queenie still don’t get on, she’s the cat that came with the house.
He does the dominant male thing and she does the submissive but defiant female thing, flat to the ground, ears back and hissing at him. It’s a bit comical to watch, though they take it very seriously. Just like people.
If I’m cooking he comes and sits or lies in the middle of the floor, or somewhere in the way. Every now and again I have to kick him out for his own good. But most of the time I just reach down and acknowledge him. He loves that. A petting of his head and he’ll put back his ears for me to do it right. Or a scratch under the chin. Purrrr!
Every now and then he’ll reach out as I pass him as if to trip me up. He loves to play sometimes and I oblige him with attention. He loves to be acknowledged. He is just a child after all. One of God’s children. Aren’t we all?
All copyright reserved / Mark Berkery
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