MasterB had become a cat transformed. His inner sabre toothed tiger had emerged. He glared at me with pupil large round eyes and made threatening guttural sounds. I had a feeling that he might take matters further, so I spoke to him sternly, and took the toy away.
Honestly, it’s only a few feathers on the end of a fishing pole, but it sends him wild. This is a new one. The old one, much mended, is on das Boot, where it doesn’t generate anything like this level of excitement and aggression.
Why should it be that this gets him going so? When I take it away I have to hide it, or he finds it and hunts it again. Then I have to change the hiding place or he starts obsessing about a particular cupboard.
It is great for giving him a work out indoors. He will run and leap, grab and growl, take a short break and come back for more. When he captures it, he hauls it away to a corner, chews it and makes threatening sounds to discourage me from coming near.
It’s only a toy, I tell him as I see him becoming over-excited. But to him, you can see this is the real thing. He is reaching back to his ancestors, he is red in tooth and claw. A wild beast in a soft ginger coat.
“I’m putting it away now,” I say, “You need to calm down.” He looks at me almost unknowing.
Imagination is a wonderful thing.