“My lunch is in there,” Kelly indicates as she stares pointedly at the refrigerator door handle. I can talk to her, sing to her, pet her, noises can happen, I can even leave the room (for a while), and Kelly will continue to indicate where her lunch is, at the appointed time for the Senior Tortie Lunch Special to happen.
How can I resist such a force of nature? I open the refrigerator door, get her bowl and tuck her under my arm and up the stairs to the bathroom we go where Kelly can eat without the curious noses and manufactured charm of five black cats who only love her, at that moment, for her lunch.
I love the petite paws balanced on the edge of the chair back. They reinforce her adamance.
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