He gets sparkly toys. Friends have bought him toys that look like wee mice and other small animals. My mom bought him toys that have giant feathers on them. He’s tried toys that go boyeeeyoyeeeoingggg! when batted. Toys filled with catnip. Poofy spheres that look like little colored cotton balls specifically engineered, built, and sold for cats. A miniature remote control car that I thought he would chase. If it’s a cat toy – you name it, he’s prolly had access to it. But doesn’t seem to give a rat’s arse about any of them.
Nope. Sad to say, none of those are up to his high standards. Everybody’s efforts and generosity are truly appreciated. But some $50 in toys later, it is still decided that the Hurley shoelace and sodie pop bottle caps are still the Best. Toys. Ever.
Yep, that there is a recent pic of my cat and bestest lil’ buddy Frank with the only two aforementioned recreational devices he actually seems to give a shit about. Look at that undivided intensity and focus. When I took that pic you could have probably turned the vacuum on behind him and he wouldn’t have even budged. The sodie pop bottle cap is a particular favorite of mine, as it only seems to catch his fancy and be fun to bat around the floor and chase at 3 in the morning when he needs to take a breather from molesting me.
I guess I’m lucky that he’s easy to please like this. But he’s got a billion standard issue cat toys and all they do is sit on the floor and get accidentally kicked by my size 10 1/2s when I’m walking around the apartment. He walks past them in a completely aloof manner as if they are all my junk. The only purpose they seem to serve is a reason for me to bend over 20 times before I sweep the floor to pick them up, sweep, and throw ’em back down for him to “play” with. So basically that means I’m getting a mild abdominal workout every few days to have a pile of cat doodads on the floor that don’t even get used. Sheesh. I always try and tell him, “At least pretend you’re interested.. these things were purchased for your enjoyment by people that care about you, ya know?”
But he could care less. I throw them. I dangle them in his face. Nothing. But bust out the Hurley shoelace and holy Hell, it’s instant bliss. He goes nuts. I hide the bottlecaps on him until I go to work so he can get it out of his system then, but he always seems to somehow track them down and drag ’em out.
Awwwright Frank. This is my last warning: Either you start having some cat-fun with your cat-toys, or I’m not picking them up next time I sweep the floor, if you catch my drift. Yep, they’ll end up in the dustpan, then in the trash. Hear me?
Look at him sitting over there like a princess. He doesn’t even care, just sitting there looking at the little speck on the wall as if he doesn’t hear me. Kids. They don’t appreciate nothin’ these days.
ps – Get well soon, sore throat goil!
