Perch

I would imagine that living in the containment of a three-room apartment might get boring after a while. Bongo has taken to sitting on the windowsill and crying mournfully at sunup each day. Maybe I'm projecting, but it seems that this must come from some deep existential feline despair, borne of restlessness and a need to climb trees. Each time I hear that pitiful window-side meowing, I feel a mixture of guilt and irritation. It's not my favorite way to wake up each morning, and I've taken to throwing a small, decorative pillow at him (that's why they're called 'throw pillows', right?) to snap him out of it.

Then he'll scamper into the kitchen, crunch on some kibbles, and find an appliance to climb. These days, it's usually the heating unit, but sometimes it's the fridge top, from which he seems perfectly content to survey his surroundings for hours and watch for small and barely discernable movements in the room.