Rock Star

Like many people, I've wondered what it would be like to be a rock star.
My cat, Oscar, knows.

Our little visitor, Teeny, has stayed. He's a good kitty: doesn't bite, likes to be pet, purrs a lot, doesn't hurt anything other than some wayward skinks.
For the first few weeks he confined himself to his box under the eaves and a small mound outside the kitchen window. He only ventured beyond that when threatened by one of the bad cats* in the neighborhood.


More recently, Teeny has been venturing beyond his self-imposed domain. Most often it is to follow Oscar around. He seems fascinated by what Oscar is doing and might do next. Keep in mind that what Oscar is "doing" is usually napping or sunbathing. Teeny lies in wait, ready to participate. When Oscar doesn't do anything exciting Teeny will run up to him quickly, tap him with a paw and run away. It reminds me of a groupie running up to a rock star to later be able to claim she touched him.

Teeny has also decided that Oscar shaking or wagging his tail is an invitation to pounce. A bit ironic since, for Oscar, this is a gesture of high irritation. Needless to say, Oscar doesn't like having his tail pounced on and communicates this to Teeny through hissing and moving to another dozing spot. Undeterred, Teeny follows Oscar to the new spot and waits with great anticipation for some invitation to play.




*"Bad cat" in my book is defined as any cat (feral or tame) who comes on to our property and tries to beat up on any of my animals. There are quite a few real bruisers who have taken to strolling in and trying to beat up Oscar or Teeny. One even has come into the house...much to Bandit's amazement.