He really thinks that if he just keep trying he will open the back door and get outside.
Not that he would really go anywhere. He hates to walk on grass. The back porch is surrounded by ... grass.
I think he delights in being 'dangerous' by going outside where the dogs romp and play in the sea of brown and green. No green now - dead of winter in the south means brown.
After going outside and crouching on the cement porch for an eternity and my leaving the door open a crack, he quietly slunk back in and jumped on the window seat. Pretending like he had never been outside.
Five minutes later he is reaching for the back door handle, trying to open the door. I call his name and he looks at me with disdain and returns to the door knob with intense concentration.
Eventually, he decides this activity is beneath him. Especially, as I am reading paper, it is time to get in my face and prove that cats are more interesting that any old piece of paper.
Yup, a cool character, never does anything that he wasn't meaning to do. It makes me smile.
1 comment:
Damn cats. They're so snobby.
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