It’s a beautiful spring day, and as soon as I got home from synagogue (okay, after I got out of my good clothes and into my weekend attire), I let Tig out. I heard a cardinal cheeping and so decided to take the camera and see what I could see. Gracie sneaked out behind me, and before I knew it, we had a bunch of rare twofer shots (to come later). But more interesting than that is almost catching Gracie in her meerkat position. From time to time, when she is interested in something, or perhaps a little frightened of it, she will rise onto her hind legs, with her front paws hanging down, making her look for all the world like an orange and white meerkat. She evidently heard something suspicious while she was bathing herself, because this is what she looked like:
And because it’s just been that sort of day, here’s a picture of Tig looking greatly concerned. Now, you might think that he’s simply looking elegant for the camera, or staring lovingly at me. You would be wrong. Sheba, the Australian cattle dog, is lying down in the grass about twenty feet behind me as I snapped this picture. Tig’s eyes were all on her. Not me.
About a minute after I shot this, Tig came running inside, tail poofed out, preceded by Gracie (by about a second). I think Sheba must have moved. He’s inside now, resting from his efforts. Whew. Tough day for all of us. I subbed as storyteller for the Cookie Minyan (children under the age of six, read a story about a boy who had to find his Hebrew name) on a day I frankly wasn’t expecting to be at synagogue, and the cats — well, gee, it’s tough to be looked at by a dog. Who, by the way, wouldn’t harm a hair on their heads.
Interesting. My friend’s cat was holding up her left front paw like that, too, and I thought it was injured. (For all I know, it could be. I told my friend about it.)
It is a hallowed assumption of felinedom, passed down from the Ur-cat Felisailurus, who lived in the Oligocene, that you casn’t trust dogs, no matter how meek they seem.
This is the first time that I’ve read that you have a dog. I am pleasantly surprised.
chsw
Sorry to disappoint you, but Sheba is my neighbor’s dog.
I like her, though.
I will not have a dog while Tig and Gracie live. It’s possible that after they’re gone, I’ll get a dog as well as new cats. But I wouldn’t lay odds just yet. Dogs are a lot more work.
For one thing you don’t have to take cats for walks.
Rahel, my cat holds one paw up, dog-like, when focussed on prey or perceived intruder threat. I don’t know why dogs do that, but a cat would want his claws at the ready in such situations.
You know, now that I look at that picture of Gracie again, it looks like she’s getting ready to slug someone, doesn’t it?
I wouldn’t want to be in the way of her left hook.
Do you know, she has scratched me maybe twice in her entire life? She never gets angry, at least, not at me. The only time I can remember being scratched was because her claw got snagged on my hand as she moved her paw or I moved my hand.
Now Tig, on the other hand–bastard swats me far too often. He’s one of those cats that will decide you’re petting him in the wrong place and swat you, and I don’t clip their claws. Well, I’d like to, but it’s not worth the effort.