Hello, beloved Friends of Rocky!
It is with great pleasure to bring you a new update for the lankiest of boys during the month of thankfulness; as the weather whips wildly between summery pleasant warmth and trying-to-find-a-sweater chills, Rocky has been taking full advantage of open windows when temperatures agree; his continued surveillance of the scurry of squirrels outside continues, particularly as they rapidly bury their wintertime treasures.
As much as I will repeat my gratefulness for your support, I would like to highlight things I am grateful for regarding Rocky. (Sorry, Zelda – you’re his adoptive sister, but you’ll have to wait to be introduced. I know I said I’d mention you, but you just have to wait. Rocky is the superstar here.)
On that note – first and foremost: Rocky is still HERE.
That on its own is a magnificent thing.
Rocky has handled our move with zero worry. He has explored this new planet of space, no space suit required; he has helped with unpacking (in his own way), found new places to hide toys (to be tripped on in the middle of the night), found new fun places where he can rumple up the throw rugs (again with the tripping), and chosen some ideal napping spots (this one requires – thankfully – no tripping).
If I were to guess, I’d say Rocky is grateful for the gushy mushy goodness he gets twice a day, and I suspect he has no idea it’s mixed with the medication that helps keep his kidney engines chugging along as a cat with advanced needs; he’s grateful for the spring toys that I find everywhere; he’s grateful for windows that give him a better scope of Neighborhood Watch duty than our video doorbell provides. Probably not grateful for me clipping the loose string of a blanket he was chewing on, but I digress.
He’s definitely grateful for the cheeky squirrels that skitter about in the courtyard. Who wouldn’t be? They’re a bit nutty.
He’s grateful for the new scratching post, particularly THIS one.
One thing he’s absolutely not grateful for is closed doors. He has made this quite obvious.
Bathroom door closed? Unacceptable. Closets, in particular, are an obsession. The carpets can attest to this, as can the 3AM sound of him pawing at a closet door. The hall closets that mysteriously open themselves, thanks to a one-inch gap between the door and floor. While Zelda is not bright enough to figure this out, Rocky radiates intelligence and has taught himself how to get them open.
Does he go inside? Is that his lair for meetings regarding being the Neighborhood Watch team lead? He won’t tell me.
The mysteriously open doors track with his ability to train the silly humans into giving him treats when he plaintively and loudly yells for them.
It’s the hidden wild man that lives behind those wide eyes, brimming with intelligence and cunning thoughts—though a ring of the doorbell will send him like a rocket up the stairs to take cover.
I am grateful for his health. Rocky is robust, and remains true to himself, and I am grateful that he got the chance to BE himself – to BE Rocky.
With all of our hearts, we wish you kindness, gratefulness, and the best of this season of thankfulness. Should you like, feel free to check out our Thanksgiving With The Cats on November 23!
Fondly, your correspondent,
Carrie