Inkie has the cunning mind of a chess master. — Photos: ELLEN WHYTE
Tuxie cats are the epitome of cool, with a reputation for swagger, intelligence and boldness; they are the James Bonds of the cat world.
Inkie has the smarts. His black overcoat shines as if polished and his white shirt front is immaculate. He is also super clever.
But Inkie is not a bold cat. Rather than pile in like Bond, Inkie plots each small step with the cunning of a furry chess master.
What makes Inkie successful is his determination. Once committed, Inkie does not give up.
When he decided he wanted to be besties with Target, Inkie spent months inching closer and closer to the old cat. At first Target moved away. When fed up, he grumbled. Inkie took a few smacks on the nose too.
But Inkie kept at it. When we moved, and Target sat in a heated cat cave so he could get used to British weather, Inkie was right there with him. Eventually, Target gave in.
Today Inkie just strolls into a room, sees the old cat and curls up around him. Target sighs sometimes but he licks the junior cat on the ear. Because Inkie may be a bit of a pest sometimes, but he has a loving heart.
Recently, Inkie has set his sights on a new goal: more lap time with me. Unfortunately, this has led to our quarrelling.
I should say that I love lap time. There is nothing nicer than having a furry snuggle and purr.
Tic Tac isn’t a cuddler but Target spends hours in my lap. He lies down, and dissolves into a puddle of purrs as I rub his ears, chin, back and tummy.
Inkie is different. He loves to have his ears and chin rubbed, but he stamps on your knees, turning and twisting the entire time. It’s cute and the loud purrs signal his joy.
The cat loves his lap time.
New strategies
However, Inkie is big boy, weighing in at 6kg, as much as Target and Tic Tac put together. Our furry heavyweight’s knee-bouncing bouts were all fun and games – until my back tapped out last autumn.For months, even the weight of feather-light Tic Tac stepping on my lap was agony.
Dostoevsky could not describe the deprivation the cats suffered when denied lap time. Target tried to be philosophical but Inkie was devastated.
Thinking it over, we leveraged the principle of load distribution: to shift Inkie’s weight away from four heavy paws we might use a pillow to spread it consistently across my lap.
We treated ourselves to hotel sized pillows stuffed with feathers and down last year. They are oversized, super comfy clouds of soft luxury, and perfectly suited to the job. When I put one on my lap, Inkie’s bulk didn’t register.
The cats thoroughly approved the innovation, seeing it as a proper homage to their importance.
Even Tic Tac sat on me for several minutes, preening like a furry beauty queen.
While it solved downstairs lap time, it didn’t help with office lap time. For the first few hours in the morning, I move as if I’m 100 years old. It’s annoying but I get by.
I see my clients as usual, but before lunch I am too tender to cuddle. Also, I can’t work with a pillow on my lap. Inkie does not accept this.
He wants to come and go, sitting on my lap for a quick ear rub between playing with Tic Tac or snoozing with Target.
At first he tried to bulldoze me by jumping on my desk and diving into my lap.
Inkie sitting happily on his furry throne.
A cunning champion
While Inkie is smart, sudden noises worry him. He hides when there’s a knock on the front door and ducks when my phone rings. Even a bird fluttering by the window startles him.
So when he pounced too early in the day, I yelped in pain and he would meow in horror before fleeing.
Poor Inkie didn’t understand. Worse, he decided that persistence was the way forward. While I understood and tried to be patient, being hurt repeatedly got to me.
I was apologising to him for yelling when I remembered a History Channel programme describing how Julius Caesar won the Siege of Alesia.Instead of hurling troops against a fortified camp, he built ditches and traps, weaponising the terrain.
Moving my speakers to the edge of the desk created a barrier. It really was that simple.
The next day Inkie strolled in, he spotted the speakers and paused.
Being cunning, Inkie circled the office. He took in the bookshelves behind my chair and pondered.
Then, moving up like a furry Everest climber, he stepped onto the armrest and put a tentative paw on my lap.
It’s made all the difference. When I’m okay, I let him climb onto my lap. When I’m not, I keep my arms down and block him.
As there is no yelling, Inkie is no longer bothered by knockbacks. He just keeps going, inching his way to his goal.
Also, as I’m improving, he will soon be able to get his way all the time. Which is how it should be.
