My boy is looking unbelievably good, with his fight wound (not pictured here as this photo is pre-fight) now looking less like the Eye of Sauron and more like an Indian bindi, and he’s got his little black cat mojo back: he’s affectionate, chirpy and full of beans. Sadly he’s also annoying the crap out of us with the noisy play fuelled by his new-found energy, which starts cranking up just as we’re going to bed and peaks between 3am and 4am. Cat Daddy is so ticked off with him that he’s threatening to shut him out of the bedroom, but he’d only yowl to get in and/or find some bubble wrap from somewhere to make enough noise from elsewhere in the house.
He has always been one to take or leave play but, ever since the lovely toys gifted by our guests from Switzerland, he’s been relentless. He’s somehow learned to request play by flopping next to his toys and making pathetic noises, and he does this several times a day, irrespective of how many times he’s already previously had play. It’s never enough. He has a 3-storey house to pitter-patter about in, scores of gardens at The Back and virtually unlimited play sessions, yet it doesn’t seem to wear him out. Nothing does. Just as our day slowly winds to a close, his seems to start with a huge power surge.
If anyone is reading this and has any suggestions for synchronising our body clocks, please let me know. Or, alternatively, please come and take Le Roi away at 11pm and drop him off again at 7am. Whatever suits you.