The Life of Pye is about a cat. The cat who adopted me.
And this is a short, sporadically posted series about her. The first post is Pye has a foot fetish.
Pye is still quite pudgy.
She’s been on a diet for several months (1/2 cup of kibbles as per the instructions on the bag), but it’s having little effect. (Her blood levels were tested when she got fixed in November and came back normal.) She gets a lot of exercise, still racing around the RV a few times a day — she uses it like an obstacle course.
Pye needs excitement.
She gets bored or anxious or lonely when I’m gone and tears the place up. I recently read an ad selling dog vests in which it claimed the vests helped calm down anxious dogs. My thinking immediately substituted cat for dog, and harness for vest, with the hope that wearing a harness would help Pye calm down when I’m gone.
To keep her from getting bored, I sometimes take her outside on a leash and harness. No, she doesn’t really walk on the leash. But hope springs eternal so I keep trying. She kind of crouch-walks. And only where she wants to go. I’d really like to have a cat that walks on a leash like a dog. I know it can happen, I’ve seen other people “walking” their cats.
Pye ran away for about 30 hours.
Last month during supervised outdoor play (a euphemism for “trying to get my cat to walk on a leash”), she broke off her harness in a panic. (NO, she does not get that from me.)
Thirty hours later, she came back looking just the same: clean, and not an ounce skinnier, which really surprised me. Thirty hours with NO FOOD and she didn’t lose any weight? There is no place to steal kibbles around here, and we already know she can’t catch more than bugs.
Pye is all drama. (NO, she does not get that from me, either.)
After The Big Escape, I bought a new harness for her. She’s ALL DRAMA in the new harness.
I put it on her for a few hours to get her used to wearing it so she wouldn’t freak out when I took her outside. Then I left for a bit.
Normally, Pye greets me at the door. She hears and sees my car pull up, and then meets me at the door. But this day, no Pye at the door. It’s a short walk from the dash where she spends most of the day when she’s not tearing something up, to the doorway. A very short walk.
So when I get in and didn’t see her, I called to her. The drapes in front of the dash moved, and Pye emerged – slowly. When she would normally bound off the dash, she instead slid down the dash and console. She “crouch-walked” half-way to the door, and then made a dramatic collapse onto her side in the middle of the living room.
Flop goes the kitty. Pye didn’t like her harness. But she’s so dramatic about it, I could help but laugh.
She doesn’t mind it now. She has no problem tearing up the house while she’s wearing it. The ad was wrong.
Next up: Pye and The Minnow.