There are people who have difficulties making up their minds. Animals are no different, some also have a little trouble deciding what they want. Mickey is a fine example of this.
Before his adoption, Mickey’s previous owner (Mom’s father), had stated that Mick was a cat who needed a doorman. Yeah, no kidding, I’ve seen Mickey at work and he is indeed a handful.
For starters, he cannot stand closed doors. If Mom or Dieter go into a room and close the door, he will position himself in front of it and start complaining. The result of his whining is usually that the door is opened.
It doesn’t take long though before he whines again. Now that he’s been let in, he wants to go out. After he’s been let out, he sits by the door and cries again for entrance or scratched the door. Again it opens, Mickey slips in and a short while later it opens again and Mickey slips out.
The same applies for when Mickey wants to go on the balcony. When he’s inside, he wants to go outside; when he’s outside he wants to come inside. In, out, in, out ... can’t he make up his mind?
Don’t be alarmed when I say that Mickey goes out on the balcony. There is no danger, as we cats have a kitty run on the balcony. See picture above.
This talk about going inside and outside actually reminds me of someone ... Debbie. She didn’t have a problem as such as to whether she wanted to be inside or out, as she had a problem with a door itself.
Debbie was a weasel and tiny as she was, she had a bit of an attitude. I mean, if someone opened a door for her so she could slip through, she remained in place. The door would be opened wider, but still Debbie didn’t move. She would merely look up and wait. Only after the door was opened wider still, enough to give access for a fully grown German Sheppard, would madam make her entrance. Didn’t I say she had an attitude?
Debbie passed away a number of years ago, but we remember her very fondly. She was good fun to play with. Whenever she was awake, which wasn’t often as weasels sleep on average 18 hours a day, we would chase her around. Don’t feel sorry for her. Most of the time she would turn the table on us and we would have to run not to have our tails nipped by her sharp teeth.
I remember one time when Charlotte was running after Debbie, chasing her into one of the bedrooms. Moments later Charlotte came sprinting back, with Debbie in hot pursuit. In one fluid motion Charlotte jumped onto the sofa and from there onto the dining room table. Debbie thought she could do the same. She launched herself onto the sofa and took a leap of faith to the dining room table. Unfortunately, Debbie’s ambition was writing checks her little legs couldn’t cash and she plummeted to the floor.
She was okay. She gave herself a little shake and walked away, but she never attempted such a jump again.
Such a character she was. Those who knew her, still miss her.
For those interested in the kitty run, please visit http://hsus.petfulfillment.com