Cats are cool

I've got to get Winnie one of these feather-on-a-stick toys.

Winnie and I have been experimenting with rolled-up balls of newspaper lately. She likes them better than the string because when I toss one to her, it keeps moving and makes a cool mouse-like skritchy-skritchy noise. And the lightest touch on her part sends it skritchy-skritchying across the marble floors. Much better than the string-and-clothes-peg toy, though she still appreciates a little cat-angling now and then.

The rolled-up paper balls are such a hit that I woke up in the middle of the night the other night to hear her scampering madly down the hall after one, and when I come home from work I often find the latest one torn into little shreds and scattered all over the floor. It's the best use I can think of for the International Herald Tribune.

I was worried for a while that she wasn't being lively enough now that we don't have access to a garden for her. She's taken to sitting in front of the bay window and looking longingly out into the umbrella pines in the back garden and watching the birds. I think she thinks they're mocking her. I feel so guilty.

I love my apartment, and I love my cat, and I know it would be the height of nuttiness to move just so she can go out and catch birds...



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