For the past week or so, my husband and I have been away from home visiting his family. Our small pride of cats remained at home while we traveled, and are "enjoying" time on their own. They are, of course, being cared for by a much trusted friend in our absence. I miss them like crazy, but knowing they are fine eases my mind, and I can enjoy the rest of our mini-vacation.
Meanwhile, in Maine, my sister-in-law and her husband are guardians of many furry children... in total, there are three dogs and two cats, named Peter and Smokey. Smokey is medium haired and jet black with huge golden eyes. He and I made friends on the first day here, and he enjoys climbing into my lap for attention. Peter is probably the smallest adult cat I've ever seen. He probably is no longer than 12", and maybe stands 8 inches tall at the shoulder. When I say tiny, I mean he's tiny! Peter is a grey and white marbled tabby who enjoys sleeping on our bed, but avoids me at all costs. But, I'm determined!
Before we leave Maine next week, I *will* make friends with Peter if it kills me. I have my plan of "attack" already in place. First, I will approach him slowly and talk sweetly to him when I see him snoozing on our bed. This has actually already begun to work, and it seems I'm making minimal progress. Next, I will lure him to me with treats! I haven't seen a cat yet that wouldn't flip over and do belly flops for a treat, so this is a must! Smokey and I have already strengthened our bond using the "food" method, so I'm just waiting for Peter to come around before I bring out the heavy artillery (read: Pounce treats!) It will work... it HAS to!
Should I fail at this most recent goal, at least I will have the blog entry to show for my efforts, and the memory of a teeny grey cat whose will was stronger than mine. After all, there IS always next time.