The Perils of Being a Black Cat

The full title of this entry is “The Perils of Being One Black Cat in a Two Black Cat Household”, for a reason that will become apparent.

Sable continues to make slow progress in her socialisation. She no longer views toys that I toss her way to be threats. She used to move away from them. Now, she plays with them. Furthermore, she doesn’t retreat from the business-end of the string-toy when it lands near her. She doesn’t play with it, either; she will ignore it, or consider it sardonically, as though interacting with the toy is beneath her, or outside of her world.

Last night, I was playing with the cats - Moxy, Valkyrie, Brazil and Imogen - flailing the string- and streamer-toys about. The four of them were having a good time. I tried, as I always do, to include Sable in the games. I jerked the string-toy so that the imitation fly at the end of the string would land near her. Instead, it bopped her on the head. This was too much for Sable, and she dropped from the cat-tree on which she had been hoping for peace and tranquility and stalked off. This, despite my profuse apologies.

A few minutes later, the scene had changed, and we were in the kitchen. Imogen was sitting in the corridor by the door to the bathroom. I flicked the string-toy in her direction and it bopped her on the head. That’s when I realised that it was not Imo, but Sable. Sable, hoping to find some peace and tranquility, stalked off, despite my profuse apologies.

It is difficult to tell Sable and Miss Silky apart sometimes, if the tail is not evident and the head is turned away. They often sit and lie similarly. Any explanation of mine, however, fell on deaf ears, I’m afraid. Sabe came to the dining room for snack-time minutes later, but I can’t help thinking she looked askance at me the whole time.

Such is one of the perils of being a black cat in a two black cat household.