After a shaky first few days in our new place (lots of hiding behind the couch), Cecil seems to have settled in quite nicely. He's back to his old tricks, you might say. And he's developed a quite interesting new one. He seems to think that the basement is his. Not just the small corner of it where his litter box is, or the other small corner of it where his food is. All of it.
He will inform you of this fact in many ways. He will station himself at the top of the stairs to the basement, spread out in what is known as "the full Cecil," in a vain attempt to block your path. When you step over him he will follow you down the stairs, coming from behind and then darting ahead at the last minute so you nearly trip and go tumbling down. Then he will follow you around the basement, meowing loudly in that way he does when he's airing grievances. Perhaps most chilling, he will lie with his belly on the cool brick floor, staring at you with a demonic eye until whatever trivial little thing you need to do (laundry, yoga, instant hot water-gathering) is completed. Only when you have safely retreated to upstairsland will he relax.
We've taken to referring to the basement as the KRC: Kitties' Republic of Cecil.
