A short update on the black cat situation: the jerk came back and looked in OVER the sheet, and yelled until he got Oliver’s attention. Luckily, Obi was downstairs so I locked him in the office and went to deal with the intruder. Oliver and I kept him busy on the roof until I could call animal control and see if they could come get him if we managed to keep him interested for ten minutes. But no. So I went outside and followed the black cat to see if I could figure out where he lived.
While I did this, I called the people I was supposed to be meeting and left a lunatic message about tracking a cat through the alley. I felt a little like the agents in That Darn Cat.
Anyhow, I think I know where he lives. And I bought a trap – and then it snowed. So tomorrow, my pretty…
I’ve mentioned, in the past, that Obi does not approve of things on his flat surfaces. The rug under the coffee table is hardly visible, some days, because he’s knocked so many things off the table.
Much like these cats.
Obi has taken this to a master level. He doesn’t even use his paws. Tail can knock things off the table when Obi isn’t even looking. For instance, The Boy set his bottle of beer on the coffee table while he played his turn at WordFeud. Obi walked by. Tail wrapped itself around the bottle, flicked, and the beer went down to the floor.
No one was more surprised than Obi.