What Cats really want from us, and how to say “no” and live
Our Cat tends to do most of his sulking and yowling when my husband is home, and I suspect this is because he thinks he has a sympathetic ear awaiting his complaints. He is mistaken. My husband and I are a united front. Nevertheless, the Covenant Cat’s unnerving yowling frequently upends our peace. We have exhausted all reasonable and humane remedies and forms of cajoling.
“Why does he do this?” I can’t remember whether we were talking about underwater gas bubbles, or Bill Bonner’s latest predictions on the duration of the recession; whatever the subject, the conversation was diverted. The Cat sat in the hall, looking vaguely toward us, yowling. His dish was full of fresh food.
“I warned him last week the yowling needed to stop. He didn’t stop. So I canceled his magazine subscriptions.”
My husband’s eyebrows shot up. “Radical,” he acknowledged. “Both of them?”
“Yup. National Fisherman and Soldier of Fortune.”
“Wow. Has he retaliated? I mean, beyond the usual?”
“He called me a covenant breaker.”
“I think we need to cut off his Internet service.”
“Let’s hold off on that so we can have one last recourse.”
“Sounds like you’ve already dealt with this. You actually…?”
“Cleaned his ears.”