We have four cats. I love them, and prior to Grace’s arrival, those cats were like my babies.
It was not normal this afternoon that Zeus came to lay on the floor in the living room, in the same space where Joe and Grace were playing. Joe and Grace were playing a rowdy game that’s a mix of catch and soccer.
There was a 10-inch rubber ball bouncing off of everything in sight.
I should mention that Grace is a little timid where Zeus is concerned. He’s scratched her a time or five, and she doesn’t like to get too close to him unless she knows he’s feeling friendly.
‘Scuse me, Zeus!
Zeus continued to lay right between Joe and Grace.
Zeus! Grace whined.
“Maybe Zeus wants to play ball with you,” I suggested.
Oh. Play ball with me? She wondered.
“Yeah,” I affirmed.
And then something happened that I never anticipated, but that made total sense in retrospect.
Catch, Zeus! she commanded as she hit the cat with the ball.
The cat, of course, ran away, probably thinking “What did I do?”
He not want to play catch with me, Mommy.
Of course he did not want to play catch.
What kind of nut would suggest that he would?
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