I’ve been minding Max the cat this week while P, B and the kids are in Florida.
It’s pretty low-maintenance work, and we have it down to a routine: in the evening, I bring in the mail, turn on a light and lower the blinds, refill Max’s food bowl and check his water. I do a brief inspection to see if his litter box is okay (emptied it yesterday) and if he’s gotten into mischief (not so far).
In the morning, I turn off the light, raise the blinds so he can see out the windows, and clean out and refill his food and water bowls.
In the morning, Max is strictly business, saying a brief hello and meowing for food. He seems to eat most of his chow at night, so by morning, he’s pretty hungry.
For the first couple of evenings, it was pretty much the same deal, but for the last two days, Max has wanted a lot of petting and has taken to sitting on my lap.
Peter was telling me about watching the big cats at the Naples zoo, and how they reminded them of Max.
So, in the course of our evening chat, I was ruminating with Max about what it would be like to have a lion or a panther on my lap instead of him. I don’t feature the idea. For laps, Max is far superior.