I think I’ve mentioned before that Hobbes loves to play 😉 We always know when he wants to play. It usually involves the following steps:
– He comes up to us and plops himself down melodramatically on the ground with his big belly flopped up and utters an insistent meow. This usually elicits some sort of vocal response from us but if we don’t feel like playing, we go about our business.
– Then he starts to look really pathetic, pouting with his head hung low and looking up at us with sad eyes. At this point his meows take on a more whining tone.
– After we’ve ignored this display, he steps it up a notch and starts to make meowing motions with his mouth, but not uttering a sound, as if he’s so depressed that he can hardly even muster the energy to meow. This with eyes clenched. Familiar with his tactics, we mock him and tell him to go play with himself.
– If he’s ticked off at us for not playing with him, he’ll start acting out – jumping on the dining room table, attacking Dante, knocking things down off of tables/counters etc. Just to name a few!
– But sometimes he seems to think we just don’t have a clue. I can see the wheels turning and he’s thinking “Stupid humans. Can’t they see I want to play?!” In these instances, he makes the giant leap (no kidding, we were in shock the first time we saw him do this) from the ledge behind our couch to our 8′ tall bookshelf in the living room, sliding along it until coming to a full stop.
I’ve seen him do it so many times now that I don’t worry for his safety, but the first time my heart was in my throat! Once up there, he hangs over the edge, stretches his paw down as far as he can without falling, and reaches down to the top left shelf where we have a basket full of cat toys. He then proceeds to rifle through and grab a toy and toss it on the ground.
Sometimes it’s really hard to say who’s running the show here.