Checking On Chewie

There was a baby lizard that scuttered out the moment I turned the key. I was like, Oh dear lizard, go away! Do not go in! I made all sorts of sounds to chase it away from the door, but it chose to go UNDER the gap and INTO the house.

That's it. Lizard, you signed your own fate. This is a terrible Halloween for you. True enough. I gingerly opened the door. Chewie was right there. She pounced, and all that was left of the lizard was its tail. Oops.

I left Chewie to play with her new conquest. Went to do what cat nannies do- scoop litter box, wash food and water bowls, dried 'em, topped up more food and water. Then I went to hunt for Chewie and made her give up the lizard's remains. Oh. She was fairly neat. The lizard's body was relatively intact. Cleared it. But the cat scowled at me; she wasn't too pleased at being made to give up this exciting toy.

Yup. I'm cat-sitting darling Chewie. I was initially a tad worried about her, and wondered if I should pop by twice a day instead of once. She regurgitated her food thrice- once a day for three consecutive days. Then it stopped. Her energy levels are fine, she's still as talkative; pee smells normal, no strange discharge on the face, and she's drinking water. I go on all fours to grab her, hold her up, and flip her over to check for strange spots or smells or whatever. I suppose she's missing her regular routine and wondering where her humans went.

Because I'm not her human, she isn't that affectionate. She wants me to play ball with her, and she'd mark me as a possession with head bumps and tail swishes. But she wouldn't want cuddles or kisses. She'll be pleased now that her humans are back. Hahaha. She has trained her humans well. I'm not as well-trained.