I have heard many tales of cats who dog their owners’ footsteps, get in the way, trip them up, won’t let them pass. In my case, that would be Josie.
Partially, this comes from Josie’s delight in eating Z/D, the special digestive food I feed to Cammie. I started giving it to Josie, as well, as she was losing weight, slowly, and I thought she was not eating enough. Well, she certainly likes the Z/D. All the cats do, which suggests to me that it can’t be healthy, as cats dislike healthy food; at least mine do.
Anyway, when I am bringing my Chubs her food, or something else she wants, she needs not just to follow me, but to escort me. She will trot beside me, accelerate when I do, decelerate when I do, and, if I try to slip around her, she will cut me off by keeping the inside track: what military tacticians call ‘refusing the flank’. She reminds me of the jets sent up to accompany suspicious aircraft out of one’s territory; I feel if I deviate from my course, Josie will fire missiles at me.
My only means of eluding her, really, is to halt suddenly and slip behind her. But she’s swift in her responses, and that doesn’t always fool her. Instead, she too may stop abruptly, which merely causes me to stumble over her.
And then, sometimes, I try to avoid her completely; the Great White also must eat Orijen, as it is better for her. She should receive the Z/D more as an addition. So I try to dish out what she wants - but doesn’t always receive - quietly, perhaps to give Cammie her dinner. But Josie knows the sound of the kernels, the sight of the cloth on which I place it so that it is more easily eaten. This results in the siren going off; the pilot scrambles; the interceptor is launched.
It’s time for me to get out of her air-space.