I intended to start a new topic today. We all must be tired of kitty stories. Certainly I am. Stories about having a pacemaker, about living in what essentially is an old folks home. It truly is the last stop before death. The problem is, I've grown to know some residents more closely, and then they go.
But a kitty story it is. It seemed to me Kitty isn't active enough during the day. I hear her playing at night, before I fall asleep, and sometimes when I wake at night. But she only has one toy I know she is playing with, the ball toy.
Other toys I find in new places, the tennis ball, the cardboard tube, but they make no noise. I have the damn bed stored under the sofa and she can't drag it out. She has tried, but she has to get it out from under the sofa, then past my walker, which is in front of the bed.
Looking on Amazon, I found some new toys. Another ball toy that dispenses a hidden cache of treats. A toy to jump for. Some new balls. The jump toy has come and Beth hung it up, yesterday, while she was here.
When kitty came out that night, I watched for her to find it, though not too hard, as we had doused it will with catnip.
I watched her jump for the "mouse" a few times, then went across the hall to check on my laundry. When I came back, I was greeted by Miss Kitty, wearing the be all, end all of catnip inspired grins. "Fix that, grandma!"