Three days ago we ran out. Every day, all day long every time I would go into the kitchen, he would go and scratch his post. This is a sign that he wants treats. We trained him to use the post with treats. This protected my furniture.
Chaz is the strong silent type. He doesn't meow. Not much. If he meows, it is important. You pay attention. They're never loud or long meows either. Just one and more only if necessary.
The treats apparently are important. He has meowed every time I don't comply with a treat. "We're out." I tell him. He walks away like the rich young ruler. Sorrowfully.
Next trip through or to the kitchen, he's there scratching his post. Giving me a look. And trudging away, head down.
For three whole days.
I called my sister.
"This cat is not happy. If you don't bring his treats he's going to lose his mind."
She laughed.
I'm not amused but ok.
'I have them but I keep forgetting to bring them. I'll bring them tomorrow." She said, still laughing.
"He's really upset about them."
Another laugh. "Ok I'll bring them by after work." She passes almost by my house so it isn't inconvenient.
My sister arrives. Chaz is lying by the back door. You've seen the photos of that activity. As soon as she walks in and he sees her, he jumps up, stretches toward her and heads for the kitchen, glancing back to see that she is following, bag in hand. He doesn't even bother scratching his post. Just sits down in front of it. Certain, I'm sure, that he's already paid his dues.
Tonight, he's a happier cat. And he's not followed me to the kitchen but one time. Supper time.
