Last week, I briefly mentioned some of the activities that Pork Chop and I enjoy. They include Chase, Torture Chamber, and Trapped in a Mine Shaft. This week, I thought I would elaborate on the mechanics of Chase.
Chase is pretty self-explanatory. This is the one game that I can't force Pork Chop to play like the others. He has to be ready and willing and not eating or sleeping—which means there are few windows of opportunity within a day. But when he's up for it, it's loads of fun and occasionally scary.
It starts out with me running after him all around the house—he'll dart in and out of rooms, go round and round the coffee table, puff up his tail when he's backed into a corner. Most of the time he'll give up and communicate to me that the game is over either by jumping into one of his safe zones—his cat condo or the swivel chair—or by just plopping down onto his side on the floor, panting and unwilling to move an inch more.
Some of the time, he'll want to reverse roles and actually chase me. And this is where it gets scary. He'll bare his fangs and come running after me, fully intending to take a bite out of my legs or feet. If my back is turned to him and I'm running, he'll chase after me like Tommy Lee Jones going after Harrison Ford in The Fugitive. If I turn to face him, he'll stare me down and nudge me further and further back by inching towards me, looking hungry (as if he has any other kind of look), until I am backed into a corner. The only chance I have for survival is to dive underneath the covers of my bed to protect myself. This definitely causes an adrenaline rush, and it's not always pleasant.
However, once in a while, I'll be sitting at my desk and I'll hear the sound of running coming from the other room and then Loren screaming, "OW!" And I'll know what happened. And I will laugh with glee.
[The accompanying photo shows you that, if you don't feed Pork Chop when he wants to be fed, he will take matters into his own paws.]