He is generally speaking a creature of habit (most of them bad), but this morning, the last time I'm supposed to be feeding him he failed to show.
I trecked across the close went to open the side gate to 'his' house and found it swinging wide on its hinge.
My alarm grew. This was not how I'd left it last night.
Was anyone around?
I couldn't get round the back of the house, they have decking which is too high for my 5'5" height to scale, so I called and peered as far as I could.
Suddenly a drowsy, half-closed eyed Morris appeared. He made no move in my direction and actually looked away when I held up his bowl for him to see.
Whether someone had been round there and had frightened him, or whether perhaps he had been out on the tiles and had had a heavy night and was sleeping it off I don't know. but failure to come for food is not his normal response. I simply left the dish there beside his water bowl and not without misgivings came home.
What is it about cats and their slaves that makes for this sense of anxiety if they step out of routine? Why do they have such fixed and sometimes really weird patterns of behaviour?
The picture at the top is of my parents' cat Polly, whose favourite hobby was burying her nose in my father's slipper. We used to refer to it as her anaesthetic.
Far from taking a sniff and running for her life she appeared to thoroughly enjoy its 'fragrance'.
There's no accounting for taste, and certainly no accounting for cats.