Percival, within the past few weeks, has decided he likes to talk. He used to be such a quiet cat, and now he has things to say.
I think I preferred him when he was quiet.
The bolt on my bedroom door’s knob doesn’t work. Well, actually it does, but it doesn’t hit the plate on the door frame correctly, so the door doesn’t actually stay shut–a good push, not necessarily a hard one, will open it.
Percy has become quite adept at pushing the bedroom door open.
So I’ve taken to barracading the door at night. Close the door, wedge a laundry basket against it, and then a plastic clothes tote against that. It’s a strange system, but it works. Percy will push against the door, but it doesn’t move, and eventually he gets the idea and goes somewhere else to sleep.
He’s become persistent, though.
First, he announces his presence at the door by miaowing loudly.
Second, instead of just pushing against the door, he rams the door. Repeatedly. Thunk! A pause. Thunk! A pause. Thunk!
I think you get the idea.
Repeat step one, et cetera.
Where he used to get the idea fairly quickly–as in, within two or three minutes–the current thunk! routine can last upwards of half-an-hour.
Last night I made the mistake of getting up around two-thirty to use the bathroom. I didn’t position the barracade quite right, and Percy managed to get the door open enough that he could get into the bedroom. Whereupon he decided to stand on my hip and miaow for attention. I ignored him, and eventually he went away.
Woody, who was always a talker, decided he’d let me know at 3:30 that he wanted out. So, he came and stood by my head and screamed, but that’s what Woody does–if he isn’t crying, he screams, and vice versa. Again, I ignored him.
I love the cats, I know they want the attention, but not in the wee hours of the morning.
Cats have the luxury of sleeping twenty hours a day–exhausting work, I know. People don’t have that luxury–Allyn likes his sleep, what he gets of it. Sigh.