What does he do all day?

Once you get a cat in your life, it's tough not to think of them once in a while. I'll be at work, sitting in my little cubicle and wondering what Socks might be up to. Is he playing with his toys? Watching the neighbors through the big window in the bedroom? Ordering pay per view movies on my Windows Media Center?

Usually when I get home, Socks is sacked out on the couch or the small chair in my living room. He greets me at the door, following me around and rubbing against my legs. I'll reach down and pet him a few minutes before checking out the litter box or changing out the water in his bowl.

I sometimes wonder what _he_ thinks I'm up to all day. One cat column I ran into noted that cats think humans are out hunting all day. If that's the case, they must think we're not very good at it - all we come home with are strange little yarn things with bells in them that are supposed to look like a mouse head and bits of food that smell vaguely like fish and chicken, but look like Cocoa Puffs.

On the weekends when I've been home, I've noticed how much Socks actually does sleep - one day, he spent most all day on the couch, curled up, dreaming of birds, mice or melted clock faces hanging on trees or whatever it is that cat's dream about. I suppose that the day can go by pretty quickly when your owner is away if you're just snoozing the whole time.

Squeak toy meow

It's been tough getting Socks off the couch today, even when I was offering a treat late in the evening. He just looked up for a few minutes, got up stretching, came for his treat and promptly went back to the couch.

After my friend Sean visited for a few minutes, Socks was a little more lively. He went around the apartment doing his "squeak toy" voice for awhile, which I translate to mean either "Let me go outside" or "Bring back the guy who was just rubbing me".

The meow that Socks has - if one can really call it a meow - has to be heard to be believed. He's a good sized boy of a cat that looks something like a little football player (if cats could play football), but always comes out with this tiny little "squeak" when he wants to express himself. Perhaps it's all the steroids.

Socks isn't very vocal. He can go through a whole day without saying much. He doesn't "beg" for food, treats or attention by meowing, but will just look up at you with a bit of longing and a quest for sympathy in his eyes. Once in a while, he'll wander around the apartment "squeaking" for no reason that I can figure out. If you pet him or talk to him, he just wanders around and squeaks some more. Perhaps he just wants to hear himself talk or maybe he's complaining about the general state of the kitty economy or the attitude of the Bush administration towards animals.

He spent pretty much all night on the bed curled up next to me and briefly did his squeaky voice this morning after I got up. Which, in this case, probably translated to "Hurry up and clean out my litter box, dammnit!" He sat in front of the sliding doors this morning watching me leave ... sigh... so sad with those big eyes...