|The doorbell rings. It’s the postman. A package is delivered. The content can be described as ‘uninteresting but useful’. The packaging, on the other hand, is a gift from the gods. Maybe not for the human eye, but so much more for a cat’s eye. The color is right. The smell is right. The size is heavenly.Pernod immediately confiscates the box. He sniffles the carton, crawls in it and falls asleep. As if he had never slept anywhere else in his life. Chatblis, who also likes to take a closer look at the box, doesn’t stand a chance. Too late! The title deeds have been handed over by the solicitor, the property has changed owners.
The box fits Pernod like a glove he won’t take off soon. Chatblis is allowed to watch. But not to touch. Pernod thinks he’s the rightful owner. Chatblis doesn’t fancy conflicts so she is the one looking for a different spot for her nap.
Towards the evening I get tired of the box in my living room. I put it in the corridor, with the cat still in it. Pernod then pulls a face: ‘I knew you had no heart for the homeless’ and lets himself be moved along. But then he soon realizes he has got a problem. He always wants to be close to people. But now his favorite spot is located in the hallway. First he keeps pacing up and down between the box and my lap. Unfortunately, multitasking is not his forte. That’s why he quickly falls asleep in my lap. And then, Chatblis seizes the opportunity.
She lets her flexible body slide into the carton and pleasantly fills up all the corners. It takes half an hour before Pernod notices that Chatblis is no longer in the room. And then he finds her in HIS box! Chatblis is safe in her fortress and every now and then she hits over the merlons of her cardboard castle with her sharp nails. She doesn’t care about rightful ownership. Move your feet, lose your seat. Pernod is bewildered.
Guaranteed entertainment for the rest of the week…