In Which the Pirate Does Another Feline Friday.

Still life with cat and wineglasses. Floyd has been getting more affectionate lately, snuggling up to us on the couch and asking for ear-scritching. This welcome change might be due to his getting used to life with Kipling, or it might be because he had the snot scared out of him by going outside and he knows that we’re big and protective. We didn’t mean to scare him with the outdoors, but it might just be a little too big for him to process. We’ll keep taking him out for little visits and giving him treats on the porch. Hopefully he’ll get used to it soon.

Last week I mentioned wanting a pink harness for Floyd. Yes, he’s named for Pink Floyd – but also for several other Floyds, including Floyd the Muppet, Floyd from True Romance (one of my favourite movies), Pretty Boy Floyd, Hurricane Floyd, Heywood Floyd, and Floyd Rose.

On my almost-sixteen mile (!) bike ride the other day I passed a committee of vultures. They let me get close enough to take pictures, but when I crossed an invisible vulture comfort line they reluctantly lifted their gigantic wings and flapped away into the field. When I came down the same road on my way home, three of them were sitting in the middle of the street glaring at me. For a moment I thought I’d be involved in some kind of bizarre vulture incident, but when I yelled “I’m not dead yet!” at them they flapped off again. They’re such graceful birds when they’re gliding around in the sky, but much more ungainly when they’re attempting liftoff.

Kipling is not exactly a lapcat – actually, he is very hesitant to step onto a person – but he’s very much a next-to-lap cat. I’ve never met a cat who’s so enthusiastic about being petted. He throws his whole body into it and purrs louder and louder. The more I scritch him the happier he is, and as he gets happier the probability that he will invert gets greater until he’s wriggling on his back, paddling his paws in the air, and scrubbing his face against my hand. (And drooling. Why must the cat drool on me? Does he think he’s a dog?)

He watches movies just like I do, gradually slouching farther and farther down and then falling asleep before all the storylines are tied up. We watched an entire movie like this last night, with him flat on his back next to my leg on the couch, and he didn’t even move when I got up to take his picture. He doesn’t seem to have any dignity at all! I think he’s ridiculously adorable and I keep pointing his cuteness out to Pirate-Husband. “Look at this cat! He’s upside-down again!”