Dear Supporters of Bacon,

After my last encounter with Bacon, when he literally shot out of his house like a rocket on fire during my visit, I was a bit surprised when I went to visit him this time to discover he did not want to come out and play. At least, not at first.

The coast was clear. Marcia was safely ensconced in her house, but alert and amazingly curious. I guess she sensed that something was up. And she didn’t want to miss a thing.

 The halls were unusually quiet. And I thought:  “What a perfect time to spend some time with Bacon.” I’m always super aware of Bacon’s need for calmness. I don’t want to be the one to stress him out. When I’m with Bacon, I tend to talk more quietly and move more slowly. Sometimes I feel like I’m doing slow-motion tai chi, surrounded by heavy dense air. But that’s okay. Especially since, lately, Bacon has been experiencing more seizures than usual, and they have been more intense. Some of his visitors have noted that he’s been slightly “off.” It is true that he hasn’t been getting all his meds lately because it’s difficult to medicate him when he doesn’t eat, and he has been picky lately. So the good folks at Tabby’s are in the midst of investigating alternate meds for Bacon to see if they can improve his situation.

But, meanwhile, I unzippered his cozy house and peered in. He was a sight to behold.

Cat napping?  Or was he fast asleep? In any case, he was as cute as can be. Quietly, I called out his name. Slowly, one eye opened. Then another. Finally, he roused himself but made no move to come out. Which is highly unusual.

What a bummer! I was already on the floor—in my usual position—so I slid closer and looked in. Bacon pushed himself up, but he remained an immovable statue. I had to find some way to lure him out of his home.

I tried gently coaxing him out. No such luck.

I tried rattling some of the food in the bowl, thinking he was hungry. No such luck.

Then I spied a toy. But not just any toy. Hanging down, a bird was attached to a string and eventually to a handle. This could work. What cat can resist a bird? Any bird? Soon, I had the bird squirming and leaping on the floor in front of me.

Bacon glanced over. He seemed interested. But still—no movement. No sign that he had any intention of moving.

I needed more drastic measures. I inched closer and flipped the bird inside of Bacon’s house, then pulled on the string. The bird feverishly danced and squirmed. Ha. Ha. Now Bacon was interested. And now I had him.

I yanked Mr. Bird out onto the floor. Bacon leaped out after him. In rapid pursuit of Mr. Bird, Bacon crawled over me as if I wasn’t there. In two seconds Mr. Bird was transported from Bacon’s paws to his mouth. I felt like I was in the middle of some action-adventure series.

Bacon meowed out–this is great! Well, not really. But if he could have, he would have! And I even had the chance to pet his paw!!! Progress was made.

The cat and bird game did not stop there. I pulled Mr. Bird away, and Bacon followed. After a while, concerned Bacon was having too much fun, and, perhaps, becoming overstimulated, we brought the game to an end. Bacon had plenty of exercise. Mr. Bird helped me lure him back to his cozy shack. And I had to listen to Marcia complain that she wanted to play, too. Well, maybe next time.

Bacon and I want to thank you, as always, for your generous support of Tabby’s Place. We hope you continue to enjoy this last month of summer.

Your correspondent,
Kate