I am at that in-between stage of testing negative and being just about well enough to go back to school, yet still feeling run-down and exhausted. And, bizarrely, the most lingering of my Covid symptoms is that I am craving salt in all its forms. Cheese, crisps, salted nuts, even pure grains of salt twisted straight from the shaker into my mouth, whatever … just give me ALL THE SALT.
Naturellement, Louis Catorze has decided that now is a good time to demand non-stop play.
I found this out when he creepy-stared at me one morning, at a time when I knew that his bowl and his water were full, and I was already in his favourite room. So it couldn’t possibly be any of those things. When I couldn’t stand it anymore and shuffled around to get up, taking longer than usual on account of being slow and ill, the little sod went to the other sofa, looked underneath it, then stared at me again.
It turned out that he’d flicked his toy under the sofa and couldn’t reach it. Of course, when I retrieved it for him, again taking an unacceptably long time, he didn’t want it anymore and, instead, wanted to play with his pink tassel on a string.
I have pointed out the following to him:
1. I am not well.
2. It’s autumn, so most normal cats are calming the heck down and spending more time sleeping.
3. He’s an old boy, so he should be calming the heck down and spending more time sleeping.
Each point was met with a non-committal “Mwah” and he continued to play. And, like a complete idiot, I continued to engage with it.
At least the little sod is full of energy and enjoying life. I wish I could say the same of myself.
EDIT: Cat Daddy has now tested positive. And so the cirque de merde continues.