My foster-cat, Portia, is asserting herself in the Cosy Apartment. She knows how to communicate her wishes, getting her point across plainly. Aside from the hissing and whapping of her early days with me, she has also learned how to talk to me - or perhaps the phrase should be, how to make me listen.
In addition to picking up swiftly on the definitions of “dinner” and “snack”, Po has let me know when she is hungry. Yesterday, she climbed up onto my desk and sat in front of me, effectively blocking my attempts at work.
In the evenings, when the summer sun shines directly into my apartment, I draw the blinds in the bedroom, to reduce the temperature there a bit. Portia now comes into the bedroom now and then, and likes sitting on the ledge under the window to look out. While the boys accept the drawn blinds and, if they are intent on viewing the outside, go to another window, Portia has instead complained to me, telling me that - in case I was unaware - the blinds were drawn and she couldn’t look out. I am instructed to raise the blinds.
During the day, when I am at work, I close the sliding glass door to the concrete ditch. It is not closed completely, but is latched in place by a bar, so that it cannot be opened wide enough for someone to get in. Some air passes by the slightly open door and through the screen. But Portia likes to sit with the door open to the full screen. As soon as I come home, she will trot over to the sliding door and demand that it be opened.
My foster-cat, Portia, is asserting herself in the Cosy Apartment.