There is something fundamentally wrong with Nimoy. The Girl suspects she’s inbred. Just a little, like her grandparents were cousins or something.
First, her ears don’t flatten normally. Cats flatten their ears when they’re unhappy, but I’ve never seen Nimoy do it. She doesn’t like it when Jingles whaps her; she hisses on occasion, but never flattens her ears. She sort of does when she’s “hunting,” but it’s not the same. Her ears don’t flatten in the normal sense; they rotate sideways so she looks like she’s wearing one of those wide-brimmed flat WWI helmets. And her expression isn’t one of excitement or concentration, she looks concerned. Also maybe a little dimwitted.
Plus, this cat doesn’t know what to do with a box. Oh, sure, The Box Of Judgment is fine, she knows how to perch in there, but all other boxes are beyond her. She’ll climb them if it’s handy, pull something out of them – particularly packing peanuts to bat around and leave all over the house. There are a ton of packing peanuts and socks stolen from drawers left cracked which she hoards in her stash under The Girl’s bed. Weird.
I found a perfect, Nimoy-sized box the other night. I showed her, and she was unimpressed. She tried to get excited about it, I mean she bit it a couple of times. It didn’t do anything or smell or taste interesting, so she tried to walk away. I caught her and put her in the box. Nimoy just sat there staring at me, as if to say “Now what?”
Sigh. So I picked her up and rearranged her into a little sleeping ball and laid her back in the box. I tucked in her tail. She proceeded to bite her tail, but she stayed in the box.
So far so good. I got ready for bed and laid down beside her, the box sitting between my spot and Hubby’s for whenever he came to bed.
Seeing it was bedtime, Nimoy jumped out of the box and stretched out in Hubby’s spot. She even put her head against his pillow. Box aren’t for sleeping in, they’re for sitting in judgment of the house.
She is similarly confused by baskets. Except when you upend an empty laundry basket over her, then she accepts her confinement without complaint. She moves it around some, like a little Dalek, but mostly she just sits there. No playing, just a time out. Jingles considers laundry baskets to be toys. Any other type of basket is just a fancy box and is treated accordingly. We’ve held Nimoy while Darth Jingles played in a basket, but Nimoy just didn’t get it.
I seriously don’t understand this cat.