Eating the leftover yogurt out of bowls and other vessels is one of Molly’s greatest pleasures in life. She will coming running up to me moments after I pop the top off an individual-serving-size container of yogurt (the distinctive sound of which has conditioned her to freak out), and she’ll refuse to let me be until I’ve shared some of the goodness. If there is anything Molly adores more than cheddar cheese, it’s yogurt. And that’s why I feel a pang of guilt whenever I remove a container of yogurt from the fridge and take it with me to eat at work; poor Molly is missing out on sharing this delicious, creamy snack with me! I’m depriving her of something she loves dearly. She’d be so very upset if she knew…
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A cat and her heat source.
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The corner of Molly’s mouth twitched slightly as she looked up at me smiling at her. I think she was trying to smile back at me. Because cats do that, right?
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Molly is crying because I’m outside on the balcony, and she’s “stuck” inside. Of course, she could simply cross the threshold to come outside and join me, but she’s a scaredycat.
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Big news! Today, for the first time ever, Molly placed a paw into the outside world. My balcony. She withdrew that paw almost immediately, but still: progress! Someday my cat will not be a scaredycat.
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Molly smells like pancakes. Delicious!
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Molly came across a chunk of unidentifiable matter in her food dish. This was profoundly disturbing, and so she left it where it lay, along with all the pieces of real cat food that had come into contact with it. I had to dump the remains into the compost bin. Taking a closer look at the foreign substance I determined it to be a piece of dog food that must’ve been mistakenly mixed in with the cat food at the factory.
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Glad tidings: Molly loves loves loves her brand-new cat bed, which yesterday replaced an old flannel blanket covered in cat hair and, yes, some vomit. I enticed her into the bed with a sprinkling of nip, and then she slept in it all evening long. When it was my bedtime, though, she followed me in and slumbered at the foot of my bed as usual. This was the best possible outcome, so yay!
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I think I have finally figured out why Molly is scared of the outside world. It’s because she’s a tiny cat, and everything seems so very very big out there.
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Molly has truly epic whiskers. It’s as if the whiskers of a much larger cat were grafted onto her cheeks and eyebrows. I measured one at a staggering 5½”. Surely these whiskers must be as much a hindrance as a boon.
It may be that the long whiskers actually explain her skittishness; could they make her extra-sensitive to disturbances and movements nearby?
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