Cogs can think.

So, today was The Day.

When I woke up, Twiek was miauwing like crazy, because he was not allowed to eat since the evening before. He didn’t like it at all to be in the cat carriage in the car; miauwing, trying to find a way out of that darn thing. He soon settled down though, and apart from a few complaining miauws when I was talking to the veterinarian’s assistant, he was a good boy.

At 16:30, I picked him up. I could see him lying down in his cage, still groggy and out-of-this-wold. When the assistant put him on the vet’s table, Twiek sniffed my finger, recognised it, and rubbed his head on my hand, as in, the Can Opener has returned. My heart melted. On the way back, he was quiet and still half asleep.

When I opened the carriage back at home, he walked out, but it was obvious he was still very groggy - every three steps or so he simply tumbled over, and his walking had a zig-zag pattern - distressing, yet strangely cute. He made his way towards one of my couches, but instead of jumping on it from the front, he opted for the backside - the high side. And jumped on top of it, almost falling off, but his nails came to the rescue.

Yeah. He’s die hard.