I walk around my home with a stick, attached to which is a cord, attached to which are fish.
Not real fish.
Just so you know.
It’s for the benefit of my cats.
Four out of five of which are lard asses. And the fifth is working on it.
The two youngest seem to love chasing it. Both need exercise. The fifth to stave off the fate of the other four, and well, the fourth could just benefit from losing some weight.
Cat one shows interest. But just carrying the stick around on your otherwise un-cat focused activities just seems to keep him mildly interested. He watches, waiting for more “effervescent” activity of the fish-on-the-string-on-the-stick thing, when I make the effort to fling it around for him. Dangle it against a wall or a door jam, and he’s right there. Weirdo.
Cat two seems to feel that the whole fish-on-the-string-on-the-stick thing is beneath him. Though you can occasionally catch him off guard.
Cat three is teetering on the edge of excitement and disdain.
All of them need exercise.
Which is why I am sitting here with a fish-on-the-string-on-the-stick thing between my legs, ready to get up and move around my house, and have my cats burn off some of that lard.