Even more so when I worked more than full time and I feel would feel guilty leaving them alone so much (Yes, I am insane. I realize. Moving on.) and could afford to, I was always buying them new toys. Every time I went to the pet store for food or kitty litter (which is the utter bane of my existence), I'd get a new toy. Every time I went to the grocery store for all those kinds of things one goes to a grocery store to acquire and subsequently consume, if I spotted a cute cat toy they might like, I'd get it.
I had a problem.
So you should have no doubt about the oodles of love I shower upon my felines.
Don't get me started on Jeté's blankie. Yes, she has a blankie. It's a long story and I finally took it away because the thing was disgusting because she drug it everywhere.
They don't get many new toys these days but they do have a toy box. A cloth orange box I purchased for five dollars at Ikea. They know their toys are there and I know when they've dipped into the toy box because it's been tipped on its side. Well, it's probably usually Hobbes because he's more playful and he's a strong effing cat and he likes to tip things over just to see what's inside. Like the trash can, which, incidentally, is not filled with toys.
But they don't often dip into the toy box these days. They prefer to steal pens and jewelry or any other small object that catches their eyes. Back in California, they'd lose all their toys and look at me like I just needed to supply new ones. Then I'd find huge piles of balls and mice under the couch and against the sliding glass door where they'd inevitably end up in the midst of playtime.
However, they've been less playful of late. I now blame that on myself for not supplying them with endless toys and not taking enough time to play with them. I chalked it up to Jeté getting older, but she's only 7 and despite having cancer, she hasn't presented symptoms yet so cancer shouldn't really be slowing her down yet.
It's really my fault.
The other day, my bestie and roomie tied a shoestring to one of their mice toys, an old realistic-looking white mouse who'd lost its tail and eyes long ago that has a small rattle inside, and blew their minds.
|just a raggedy mouse with a shoestring|
This toy! is new! and exciting! and new!
It's like a flying mouse! that rattles!
They've been going crazy. And getting tons of attention because both Lynnette and I play with them avec said toy all the time. AND, don't tell him I told you, but I supect the other roomie is playing with them too sometimes.
Jeté and Hobbes are in heaven.
All I have to do is rattle the little mouse and they come running.
They love it.
Hobbes is more fascinated with the mouse. How is that thing flying? Ce n'est pas possible, he thinks. Or, he would if he thought in French. I suspect he speaks Pig Latin, but that's just me.
|not sure how this happened|
|the hunter prepares to eat its prey|
Sometimes Jeté will meow at me mournfully for no good reason. I check her food and water. Nothing. I try to cuddle. No, not cuddle time. So I ask her, "Where's your toy?" And she'll take me to it. Playtime. NOW!
Since Jeté was diagnosed with a sarcoma, I have made a point to never turn down cuddles. She gets as many as she wants when she wants because I don't have much time with her left and I'm going to miss stroking her insanely soft fur and she purrs like a Hemi. But more than that, I know I'll regret not giving her as much loves as possible.
It just didn't occur to me to give her as much playtime as possible too. And playfullness is the first thing she'll lose.