Our cat loves this ball, it’s a ping-pong ball covered in a knitted stripy fabric.
Suddenly there will be a clatter and the cat, who takes the ball upstairs in her mouth, is chasing it downstairs, then into the kitchen or along the living room floor.
She bat’s it backwards and forwards between her front paws, or under the settee then pulls it back out with her claws. The game goes on for half an hour or so. In which time she will run up and down stairs several times. If she was a footballer she would be a premiership star!
Last night I started throwing the ball up stairs and then she chased it back down. Having cats are fun.
She likes climbing up on the airer to have a love, she rubs her cheek against my hand, pushing her nose into my palm. The tower of trays in the background is where she sleeps, curled up above the warm radiator.
Paws on the towel, staring at me. Looking for a cuddle, or sometimes her cat biscuits. She’s a lively cat. She chases toys like a professional footballer. Rolling a tennis ball along with one small front paw. Goal! She pushes it under the sideboard. I act as goalie and fish it back out again.
I didn’t get a photo of them, they move too fast. One cat plays with a small ball, batting it round the bathroom so it clunk’s off the cupboard and the side of the bath, racing into the kitchen, the living room and back again, zigzaging along the floor, sometimes skidding to a halt and then whizzing off in another direction. Her brother, bigger and more staid, sits by the back door as this goes on. Until she chases the ball under a big green coat hung opposite the back door. It’s long enough to reach the floor. She bat’s the ball away, under the coat and chases after it. He watches, head twisted round away from the cat flap. The ball trickles out, he can’t resist and pounces, she rushes out, sees him with her ball, twists in mid air, catches the ball with a claw and flicks it away, all so fast he can’t react. She speeds off and he chases. So it goes on. Life, fun, two cats, one ball.