banshees (note forced connection to St. Patrick’s Day)
That was two grumpy posts in a row, so it must be time for a non-hilarious post about my cats’ antics! Bucca, the old girl, has a new trick: wailing like a banshee, or maybe like a Siamese cat (which she is not). I don’t know what this portends - hopefully not the traditional impending death - but it sounds dreadful. The first time I thought she was being attacked by a raccoon*. The part that makes this semi-funny and leads me to believe that it is not a sign of something horribly wrong with her is the fact that she only does it while dragging around a dishtowel like a little security blanket. Also her behavior is otherwise exactly the same as it was two weeks ago, before the wailing started. I think she just is tired of being downstairs by herself; she’s afraid to come upstairs, unless it’s something so vital - like waking me up so I’ll feed her breakfast - that the need trumps the fear. But if I carry her upstairs every time, am I rewarding the wailing and thus reinforcing it? Because the wailing sucks! I need Victoria Stillwell to start training cats. Or possibly to spend my tax refund on an animal behaviorist, although my mother would be completely disgusted with me. I’m going to try removing all the dishtowels from cat-reach and see if that takes away the trigger. * despite some apparent similarities, Chez Alverda is not Grey Gardens and there are no raccoons in the walls.
