Another fact demonstrated: Cats are cleverer than wolves. And much more subtle.
This is what the wolf did the other day.
“Get in your basket!” Rachel told it, when it was watching her eat her dinner. It has long strings of drool sometimes; most inelegant. Rachel doesn’t want a drooly-chops wolf sitting beside her.
The wolf’s own basket is at the other side of the kitchen. Tosca’s basket is beside the table, because she never drools at mealtimes, just looks quietly hopeful. Or plain pathetic.
And it works. She gets little treats from Rachel’s plate. “I know, I know, I’m making a rod for my own back!” Rachel says when anyone reminds her not to feed animals at the table.
Lottie sometimes gets up on the table at mealtimes, but Rachel objects to that too, so she sits on a chair instead. Rachel says she should have her own plate and spoon, but Lottie gets little treats too. She especially likes omelettes.
Hamish doesn’t bother; he sits under the table sometimes, but he runs away from treats. They might be poison, he says; trust no one, he says, especially Rachel.
I don’t scrounge, as Rachel so rudely puts it. I just sit within reach of any tidying up that needs to be done; you know, in case titbits fall onto the floor and have to be cleaned up. I’m helpful that way.
But when the wolf was sent off by Rachel, it thought it could fool us by getting into Tosca’s basket instead of her own. As if we couldn’t see that it was bursting out of it!
It didn’t work, anyway. Rachel said that there were going to be changes round here from now on; no more feeding at the table.
That wolf. Troublemaker.
But we will find a way of changing her mind. We won’t tell the wolf though.