First of all, one of my blogging friends has mono. Oy, do I feel her pain. So go over to Keeping the Dream Alive and give her your wishes for a speedy recovery.
She and I were going back and forth via email about her having mono and not knowing where she got it from, and we came to the conclusion that I gave it to her via the internet. You know, a cyber-virus. It only makes sense. Other than the fact that I would have had to kiss her or use her toothbrush or something to actually pass it on to her, but humor me. This is going somewhere. Kinda.
ANYHOW, since I gave her a cyber-virus, I sent her some cyber-chicken soup and a cyber-blanket for her to cuddle up in. She also requested a kitty, since her mean mean (just kidding!) husband won’t let her have one.
I offered to put this little guy in a box, duct tape it real tight (because he’s very resourceful and very sneaky), and send him right off to her.
Which led me to give her a list of his antics that she would have to endure. I rattled off about seven things without pause. I then realized that those were only the tip of the iceberg. This cat has such a personality that I thought I’d share some of his little quirks with all of you. They certainly make my life a living hell more interesting.
- He loves the hair dryer. My loud 10-year-old hair dryer that sometimes startles me when I turn it on? He comes running when he hears me fire it up and sits on the bathroom counter, waiting for me to aim it his way.
- Also loves the Swiffer sweeper. Really, I can’t blame him–I do too. But it makes it hard to swiff (please just tell me I made up a new verb) when there’s a kitten pouncing on the thing. And because we have mounds of cat hair everywhere, my Swiffer tends to make a high whining noise after sucking up little furballs–a noise that is akin to fingernails on a chalkboard. But he keeps right on pouncing. It’s like sweeping with the Energizer Bunny around.
- “What’s in the toaster? Hmm, let me stick my head in and see.” This is what I imagine Forrest saying to himself before he checks out a hot appliance. YES, I KNOW THE CAT SHOULD NOT BE UP ON THE COUNTER AND WE’RE GROSS GROSS GROSS. So don’t ever eat at our house. And I’m buying a spray bottle today to squirt him with to hopefully train him to stay off of the counters. Why do I feel that I’ll have gallons of water to wipe up?
- In addition to toasters, Forrest has also taken a liking to other appliances. He enjoys walking across the hot stove to see what’s cookin’. Last week, I got so pissed at him that I put him in the laundry room and shut the door. Perfect. He had food, water, and a litter box, and I had some peace and quiet so that I could cook. He cried for about 10 minutes and then was quiet. I thought all was well. Except . . .
- when I opened the door to let him out, a blast of hot air hit me and I noticed there was condensation everywhere. He had managed to disconnect the dryer’s exhaust from the wall WHILE IT WAS ON. At least the laundry room smelled like Bounce instead of cat shit for once.
- Speaking of letting him up on the counter . . .he typically gets up on a chair, gets up on the island, and then jumps across to explore further. He also tends to leap before he looks. Earlier this week, he made the jump, slid on whatever pool of wetness was on the counter at the time, made contact with a glass bottle, and smashed it against the wall, shattering it. Thankfully, he wasn’t cut. Oh, did I mention? This was 5:00 IN THE FREAKING MORNING!
- He loves people food. Doesn’t matter if it’s drowning in hot sauce, a vegetable, or hard candy, he’ll try to swipe it from you. Makes for interesting meal times in our household.
- Way back when he was a little harmless thing–a few weeks ago–we kept him in the master bathroom. He had ringworm and we were trying to keep him somewhat quarantined. Our bathroom is fairly large and he was a tiny little thing, weighing in at 1 1/2 lbs. At first he was OK with his new living arrangements. But then he started to revolt. One morning I went into the bathroom to find the stopper to the sink drain uprooted (for lack of a better word). He must have decided that the 14 toys we had put in there with him weren’t enough and he needed something else to play with. We have dual sinks in the bathroom. As a testament to his strength, I tried to remove the stopper on the other sink. And couldn’t.
- Somewhere between 4AM and 5AM each morning (weekends included because Forrest’s skilz with the calendar are just as good as they are at telling time), I am awakened by the sound of a cat gagging. A hairball? No, or not yet anyway. Forrest likes to chew on my hair while I sleep to the point that he gags on it. I then have to extract the (still-intact!) strands from his gullet. Add this one to the list of reasons why my hair will never be long. I think I need to switch shampoos, because apparently the one I’m using has trace amounts of catnip in it. I now sleep with a T shirt wrapped around my head to fend him off, but he’s catching on. By next week, he’ll be chewing through the T shirt to get at my hair.
- Chewing? I think he’s part tiger or something. HE has some strong teeth for a 3 month old kitten. Don’t believe me? Ask Mike, whose toes Forrest sharpens his teeth on daily.
- Let’s talk about the 2 cats getting along. They don’t. Simple as that. And even though Guinness outweighs Forrest by at least 12 pounds and packs a mean wallop with her paw when she swats at him, Forrest just keeps coming back for more. Immediately. Hissing, screeching, and rolling around ensues. All of you country folk that used to hear cats mating outside your bedroom window at night . . .you know that sound? (Am I being too much of a hick here? Do you have NO CLUE what I’m talking about?) Anyhow, that sound is a symphony compared to the noise that these two make. It drives me INSANE.
- I love animals. I truly do. Seeing an animal in pain, or hungry, or stranded makes my heart melt. But if one more person tells me that having him fixed will calm him down, I just may get out the pruning shears and do a little snip snip on him myself. We have TWO MORE MONTHS until we can get him de-masculinized (another new word, what do you think?). Anybody know a black market vet that will do it a little sooner than the recommended 5 months? If so, we need to talk.
But when he’s sleeping, he’s the most precious little kitten on God’s green earth.