Cat dementia

When I came home alone one night, Grey as usual, ran out of the house for the corridor FREEDOM FREEDOM as if he’s Julie Andrews rolling down the hill singing The Hills Are Alive. I dropped my bags in the bedroom and went out to get him back. I don’t like picking him up so I tried the food tactic.

Usually waving a packet of wet food is enough to tempt the fella in but this time he just glanced at me distractedly before going back to examining the drain.

So I placed his food bowl near the door and tore open the packet, as it was dinner time anyway, and poured the food into the bowl. FOOD FOOD, i tempted him but he ignored me. I tapped the bowl against the floor but he didn’t hear me.

I walked out to the corridor, hoping no neighbour was watching, and waved the bowl of WET YUMMY TEMPTING uhm FISH STUFF in his face. typically he’d be fainting from hunger and practically clawing to get into his dinner but he acted like he didn’t smell the inviting fish stench. annoyed, I tapped the food bowl against his head.


oy, your dinner. eat leh.


Grey sniffed at the drain.

I tapped the edge of the plastic bowl against his head. no reaction.


I think the cat has dementia. he has forgotten what dinner smelled like.


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