Well, Mom thinks I may have developed a phobia, whatever that is, because I
absolutely and suddenly refuse to come up the back steps onto the deck to go
inside. At first, she thought it was because the steps do not have risers
and I may have thought she was asking me to go through them, instead of up
them. How silly! I know I can't fit through the steps! Then, she thought
it was because I didn't know where my back feet were and the narrow steps
were a bit of a challenge. How silly! I don't HAVE back feet, who is she
kidding? And what the heck ARE back feet? Mom says they're those two furry
things that are behind my tummy when I lie down but that disappear entirely
when I stand up. What does she know?
Actually, the real reason I won't set foot on the deck is because Hiss-Spit
lurks for me there. She only really told me off once, but I know that even
if she SOUNDS like she is out in the back yard, she is really throwing her
voice and is actually trying to lure me onto the deck to ambush me. I am not
fond of Hiss-Spit and I don't believe she is fond of me. I am NOT going to
play her game; after all, she's a cat and everyone knows that cats cheat.
However, I have fooled Mom into thinking that I can't go more than halfway up
the steps. This means that she spends time click/treating me for each paw I
put on the third step or each time I walk up to the stairs by myself. I have
decided to hold out on the last two steps until she ups the ante and breaks
out the steak. I wonder how long this will take. Do you think I can clicker
train her to steak me very soon?
Sailor desperately seeking steak
