Because of this, Bailey has taken to just staring at us when we're cooking from right outside the kitchen, where the hardwood floor meets the kitchen tiles. Sometimes she gets bold and walks just inside on the tile. Which I'm okay with, because her food and water bowls are right there, so that's allowed. Anywhere past the fridge and there's some yelling.
I find the staring a little creepy. Nick thinks I'm weird because of this, but I'm uncomfortable with any person/animal staring at me for long periods of time.
Anyway, Bailey will watch us for 10 minutes or so (the entire time, I believe, plotting how she'll get to the food), after which she gets bored or something, and wanders around. While she's wandering, I notice that she:
- Will go to the bathroom.
- Will eat some of her food.
- Will drink some water.
I note these things because then I know that she has done everything she needs to in the half of the apartment where the kitchen is, and that she has no reason for going there afterwards, when we leave our cooked food on the counter and go eat in our living room at the other end of the apartment.
But she always wants to go back to the kitchen. And she KNOWS she won't be allowed to go. I have yelled at her incessantly for it, but she's hooked. Our cooked food is like her forbidden fruit.
She'll start out all nice and behaved, like she's a little angel.
But then she starts wandering off...towards the kitchen.
And then I yell at her and tell her to get her butt back in the living room. And then she kind of looks at me, and slinks back just into the living room, all pouty.
Then she'll sit right inside the living room, gazing into the kitchen, playing it cool.
And sometimes she'll even pretend she doesn't care one bit and go about her kitten ways. Psh, who cares about the kitchen? Where's the kitchen?
30 seconds later, she get ups and starts creeping towards the kitchen. Which is followed by a "BAILEY!!!" from me.
After she's been yelled at for a while, Bailey starts doing this thing where she crouches down, not quite laying down but not quite sitting. Like she's ready to run at any moment.
And would you believe it, 15 seconds later, she's creeping towards the kitchen again. And I yell again.
Finally, she admits defeat. At this point she just jumps onto this cushion-y chair we have and scowls. At me, mostly. Probably.
Whatever. I win!
Although she made it as far as halfway down the hall one time. I must have been unconscious or something, and didn't realize.