…you have a viable suspect. A ‘feline-of-interest‘.
I written previously regarding
my roommate’s our pets. I adopted them when I moved in. Fortunately, we all get along, in spite of some annoying habits. I am speaking of the quadrupeds.
The newest member of the menagerie is a black longhaired creature named Gracie. This is ironic, as I used to own a cat, a shorthaired calico with the same name. Rather, she owned me.
The popular meme is we are dog’s masters; cats have staff. With Gracie, it’s no different.
She has one of those automatic dry cat food feeders, an inverted bin which connects to a bowl. Gravity operation. Of course, she’s too
lazy stupid smart to use her paw to move the food into the bowl herself. She complains until one of us does it for her. Smart.
She’s generally not allowed into the bedrooms, so she waits outside for us to emerge. Sometimes whining if we get up later than she would like.
I’m usually up first, and she greets me on the upper landing, then accompanies my journey down the stairs, all the while crossing in front of my feet in an effort to get attention, and trip me! You must remember I’m disabled, and traversing the stairs usually requires both hands, and concentration. She doesn’t care.
If I make it down the stairs relatively unharmed, she continues trying to trip me as I walk around downstairs. All the while meowing and purring to lull me into the belief she likes me.
The catch is after I’ve survived these attempts, and my roommate arises, she only has a mild interest in trying to kill me. I wonder what THAT’S about?
So, If I’m Found DEAD At The Bottom Of The Stairs…