I keep fake feathers in my art room closet, and any one of these feathers is the Romeo to my cat’s Juliet. She hasn’t seen them for over a year, but every time she is in this room, she goes to the closet and tries to stick her paw under the door for them.
Today, I had to open that closet door.
I had shut her out of the art room entirely, so I’m not sure what happened next. I assume a feather fell onto the closet floor, and, when I let her back into the art room, her thievin’ kitty paws did the rest. Regardless, a minute later, I went back into the dining room, and she had a feather somehow. And she was dancing with it. Back legs on the ground, front paws wrapped around the feather, in some sort of joyful two-step. I had to trick it away from her, and when she finally realized her soulmate had been locked away again, she ran to the closet door with a confused and wild mew.
I shooed her out of the art room, and she sat at that door and cried like all four of her legs had been broken.
(She can’t have the feathers because they have a pen-thick shaft that she chews on. I don’t want her to cut her mouth or swallow pieces of it.)