The Custom Box chicken is getting bolder and bolder. Today as I was unloading the stuff from Costco, the chicken marched up to the back door and demanded to be fed. Since the cat have learned to self-feed from the bag, we're not good at making sure food gets set out for the bird. This makes the bird unhappy.
So I scooped up a bowl of cat food and let the chicken lead me to her dish under the garden shed. Jeff put away the picnic table while I was on vacation, so I sat on a bench and waited while the chicken eyed me warily. She clucked her disapproval, but she eventually strutted over to have a snack. She wouldn't let me pet her. She was also nervous of Duke, who had come out to see what I was doing.
Duke and Max have turned into a pair of fine animals. It's been a long time since we had shop cats, and we'd forgotten how fun it is. These two are especially good.
Max has developed several passions:
- He likes to eat, especially fresh from the bag.
- He likes to play with bottle caps of any sort — they can amuse him for hours.
- He likes to race. Jeff calls him the "grey cheetah".
I still worry that the cats will venture too close to the road, though I've never seen any sign of this. They do have a bad habit of hanging around in the gravel parking area, greeting everyone in the morning. (They follow us to the back door of the office, and as soon as we open it, they race inside to eat from the bag.)
I'd still bring both cats home in a second, if Kris would let me. I'd even bring home the chicken.
On this day at foldedspace.org
2005 — Helpless In which something is wrong with Simon, but we don't know what.