A CAT, SARDINES, AND MYSELF

     Chicky was lying on a chair next to mine. He is sixty in human years, and, sometimes, feels it. 
Although, I began to suspect a few days ago that it was time for his mid-life crises. He chased Sylvie more than usual

and was even caught chasing his own tail. It is not as easy for him to do it these days, so once he caught his elusive appendage, he would put his paw on it to keep it from running away again. At night he felt particularly restless and, if Sylvie refused to participate in the chasing games, he would yowl mournfully. Taka thought it was because he didn't share with Chicky the sardines he was eating. It could be. The first time he opened a can of those stinky delicious little fishes, Chicky made a complete fool of himself begging for a morsel or two. I was afraid that Taka would have kittens, such was the loving that Chicky subjected him to! 
     But last night Chicky looked pooped. He seemed to be asleep. His massive paw was lying upside down, big claws visible. I petted his paw, and he thanked me by stubbing me with those impressive claws. I guess, this time he didn't feel like playing!