Little Mojo learned a lesson today. You see, the little boy has temper or hissy fits on a regular basis. If he decides he has been ignored or forgotten or just plain gets bored, he will sit back on his haunches and howl like crazy until somebody comes running to see what is wrong.
My policy lately has been to refuse to come running. I usually let him howl for a minute or two and then quietly walk up and let him slowly realize that he has an audience for his bout of histrionics. This policy hasn't been working the way I wanted it to, to be honest. He is not the least bit embarrassed at being caught and will just swing around to face me and continue to howl until I pick him up. He has a very strong will.
This afternoon he and I had gone upstairs to put something away and then I returned downstairs. He stopped for a snack from the bedside bowl. A few minutes later I heard him start his howl. I ignored him. But I suddenly realized there was a note of panic in his voice this time. Dropping everything, I ran upstairs. His voice was muffled and very definitely panicked. He was under the bed and I immediately knew what must have happened.
The heathen cats have been playing under my bed, doing their best to shred the underside of my box springs. (It's an old mattress, so I haven't been all that concerned about the situation.) Mojo had gone under the bed, gotten wrapped up in the filmy, gauzy threads, and could not budge. He was trapped like a little bug in a spider's web. It took some effort to extract him and by the time he wriggled out from under the bed he was beside himself with relief. He was still shaking from the panic, but began covering my face with kisses.
I told him about the little boy that cried wolf, but I'm not sure the moral of the story sank in. I expect sometime tomorrow he will still find an excuse to howl for someone to come check on him.
He's not spoiled. No way.