Poor Jake.
Last night Jenny and I went upstairs to bed. Jake was following, but broke away at the last minute. I didn't know then, but the reason was because he forgot Mufasa. He had to go run back to get him.
Next thing you know I hear the little guy howling downstairs. I called down for him, and eventually he came... but I had to check the security cameras before I knew what in the heck happened.
Turns out he got half-way up the stairs, dropped Mufasa, had to go back down to get him, and was very upset about it...
On one hand... it's sweet that Jake is still so fond of his favorite toy six years onward.
But on the other... his life would be easier if he wasn't so attached to this one thing above all others.
Like I'm attached to my cats, I suppose.
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My parents talked me into taking a male 1 year old that someone dumped at the farm. He is a sweet boy, but clueless when it came to the other cats and they were afraid (and I agree) that he was definitely an indoor cat and probably wouldn’t survive the winter.
They never named him, just calling him “indoor kitty”. This guy loves to walk through the house yowling and I named him “öskra” (Oscar) which is Icelandic for “yell/scream/howl”. Fits….
Actually… “Indoor Kitty” is a clever name for a cat!