Sunday, September 18, 2011

Meet My Cats

I have three and a half two cats, and now I'm blogging about them. Does that make me a crazy cat lady? No? Yes? In any case, I promise not to use them as projectile missiles, but I can't promise not to use them as weapons of mass cuteness and laughter. And in case simply reading about my cats seems woefully boring, don't worry; I fully plan on capturing the full magic of being owned by cats on video and picture.

Without further ado, my cats!

Aka: Mau-mau, King Felix

If I were to describe Felix in one word, it would be: bearviperteddy. He has the mahoosive paws of a bear, the speed of a viper, and the cuddly-wuddles of a teddy.

One might not guess right away that Felix is our most affectionate cat. That's because he has to get to know you, first, and by "get to know you", I mean at least a year of steady trust training. I've only just attained (nearly) the same level of worthiness as my boyfriend, who got him about four years before I moved in-- two years ago. Oh my god, this cat is about six. FELIX, Y U SO OLD?

About 40% of his time is spent sleeping, 50% of his time is spent cleaning himself, and the other stuff is divided up in the other 10%. You see, he is King Felix, and he needs to keep his fur as pristine as possible. Although he has the longest hair of all the cats, he probably contributes the least to the voluminous amounts of hair around the house. Instead of shedding it all over the house, he collects it in his stomach to deliver as a (not so neat) little package in the middle of the rug.

But through the touchiness and the pride, he is our most affectionate cat. He'll come to you when you call about 80% of the time, and when he comes he loves pets and scratches. When the mood strikes him, he'll not only tolerate hugs, but goes crazy for them.

Aka: Cat, Meow-Cat, Whiny-Cat, (Verb here)-Cat, Big Boy

Malcolm's head is too small for his body. His body is a bit too small to begin with, but that's okay. He was the runt of his litter, and orphaned very young when his mother was hit by a car. That's how we happened to acquire him around 8 weeks old, two years ago, and he's been the best cat a cat owner could imagine since then. I might be biased.

Malcolm is the headlining act in this house. If you keep a camera trained at this cat, eventually he will do something that could probably win you $100,000 on America's Funniest Videos. That's right, I'd be a thousand-aire if only I could manage to catch some of the things he does.

I dare anyone who is afraid of cats to come meet this one. I, too, was afraid of cats when I moved in. Even of Felix, given his history of touchiness and readiness to strike if, perchance, you did something unknowingly to his displeasure. Then I got this cat. Although he's not always as cuddly as Felix, and he has to get used to your presence, time from meeting to cuddles is less like a year and more like an hour-- at most. The only way you'll piss him off is if you're trying to. And you really have to be trying.

This cat is quirky and affectionate. Brave at times, skittish at others. Hunts bugs, but can't muster the courage to kill them. Loves affection, but has his own personal space. Try to plant a kiss on his head and he'll dash away, but give him a hug and he'll collapse purring in your arms. Loves people-- unless you're The Man with the Dog. He sure remembers you, buddy.

Aka: Baaaby!, Oldman Tunabreath Stinkyfarts, Old Man

As of two weeks ago (which happens to be when I started writing this blog), this cat isn't ours anymore. But he was once, and I was going to include him two weeks ago, so I thought it would be fitting to add him along with the others. His prominence on the blog will probably be minimal... Considering he isn't ours anymore.

This cat is about 12 years old, and in much a typical senior fashion, dislikes disliked the younger cats. If Baby had a lawn, he would be screaming, "Get off it!" with his haggard, hoarse croaking.

That's primarily why he isn't ours anymore: he was much more suited to a single-cat household (or at least one where the other cat(s) left him alone). The other reason-- and this is pure speculation-- is that our roommate became too attached to let him go; she offered to take him. After all, Baby was always in her room. Presumably hiding from the younguns.

The thing I remember most about him, and will miss the least, is the fact that he has a nuclear stench plant situated firmly in his bowels. You could always tell when Baby got out of the cat box because he would drop an atomic crap bomb so powerful that a single trip-- no matter how clean or fresh the box was-- would warrant an immediate scooping, just to preserve the ideal of your house not smelling intensely like crap.

But perhaps it's a bit unfair to identify him by his nefarious poops. What I will most definitely miss is the fact that he was the only cat who actually headbumped me. On my face. Also, he's the only one of our cats who actually acted like a cat.

Aka: Pumpkin, Kitten, Kit, Squiddles, Professor Stinkbutt

This one also isn't ours. Yet. She came home as a "foster kitten" that was "found in the bushes", by my significant other's sister. I believe it, too. If you replace "foster kitten" with "kitten I'm pretending to foster so we can keep her", and "found in the bushes" with "probably got from a friend".

But, I digress. Maggie was originally named Squiddles, which I find suits her quite nicely. See, this cat has a peculiar defense mechanism. Whenever you're holding her and she wants down, she will unleash a stench from her southern regions so foul that you pretty much have no other option besides letting her go in order to escape the cloud of death. I liken this to squids spurting out ink to get away, and it wasn't unusual to hear, "Ewww, she squiddled again!"

Besides her squiddling tendencies, she was a very spunky cat. If you would take a second to imagine kick-ass Yvonne Strahovski as a cat, you would get Maggie. She's beautiful and loves to climb, play fight (like wonderful Sarah Walker from NBC's Chuck), pose for pretty pictures, and run around with the Big Boys. In fact, thinking about it, Malcolm, Felix, and Maggie are kind of like Chuck, Casey, and Sarah. Hah! NICE.

Well, since that realization just made my life, I think I'll leave it at that. Those are my cats, and I hope they'll bring a lot of fun to this blog.

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