Bill likes toys. He likes little fuzzy mice and ribbons and feathers and Dunkin Donuts straws. Keeping Bill occupied is not that hard.
Captain, on the other hand, during his 5 minutes of frantic play per day, chases nothing. Intensely. He bats at nothing on the floor, flips around and bats at nothing on a different part of the floor, pauses in an awkward position, and then runs like the freaking wind away from his imaginary enemy.
Last night, however, Cristian and I were sitting on the bedroom floor folding an epic pile of clean laundry when Captain switched into play mode. I had two shirts laying flat on the floor (to be hung later) and because they’ve been sitting in a laundry basket for 3 days all rolled up (which is what happens when Cristian is in charge of the laundry) they are very wrinkled. Still. Grumble. ANYWAY, Captain pounces on the shirts and does his ATTACK dance with the spins and the batting at nothing only THIS TIME, he was NOT batting at nothing so much as at the wrinkles in my shirt. He was playing … with the wrinkles. Chasing and attacking the wrinkles on my shirt. It was freaking adorable and bizarre all at the same time.
So now I’m wondering if there are some sort of patterns or shadows or… I don’t know, WRINKLES in the carpet that Captain feels the need to vanquish when he goes into frantic play mode. Hmm. The endlessly interesting lives of house cats… which is clearly the name of my next book.