Samson has figured out that if I haven’t come upstairs to bed, I’m likely in the living room. That vent right next to their kibble storage is a very short path to the living room vent, high on the wall in the center of the room. He gets my attention by rattling the vent register (he’s nearly pulled it loose from the wall) and yelling directly into it. It’s basically his own personal intercom system to request his fourth meal of the day. Works every time to get me to come upstairs. Who could resist those pathetic miows?! And, yes, the cats are still my second-floor squatters, though we’re making progress daily on species integration.
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