My cat
is more than just my roommate and friend (on occasions selected by
him). He demands (and receives) a full body massage before he eats.
It started out as something neo-natal. He was a cute cuddly ginger
kitty about five weeks of age when he moved in. He was very small and
hardly weaned and hadn't many opportunities to collect a lot of
baggage so it was a relatively painless and straight forward transfer
of residence. What I didn't realize at the time was that this was
also a transfer of power. Anyhow I let him out of his carrier and he
staggered around and got his bearings. Next I showed him where his
bathroom was. He looked at it, sniffed it and pissed in it. That was
pretty much it for his formal education. Because he was so young and
even tiny it seemed to me, when I fed him I would stroke his back,
shoulders, hips and legs. So I suppose he thinks the massage is an
indispensable and unexcusable part of the dining experience and that
imprinted somewhere in his kitty brain is the idea that a pre-comidal
massage is just in the 'nature of things.' It has always been and so
it shall be. Remember the transfer of power idea? Well he's now a
little over 3 and his demands have increased. He now requires that
same massage before snacks and even when he's simply thirsty and just
wants a drink. He comes and gets me and informs me by whatever means
are required that he needs me in the kitchen so that I may do right
by him before he eats, snacks or drinks So far in our three year
relationship he has come to respect me and my needs at least when I sleep because he hasn't yet demanded that I get my sleepy self out of my nice warm
comfy bed to give him a massage before he has a midnight snack.
He has
a whole number of favorite things. One is a green knitted stuffed
thing that sort of looks like the outline of a cat. He drags that all
over the place and plays with it everywhere. The other day I was
preparing to go out and I laid my clothes out on the bed and when I
returned from the shower to get dressed I noticed the green knitted
cat-like favorite toy had been placed smack dab on top of my neatly
arranged wardrobe. It was as though he was offering to let me play
with it. He also is wingnut crazy for green vegetables like spinach.
The other day I was preparing to make a spinach-based recipe when he
bounded onto the counter and began to pull at one of the leaves. I
pulled out a nice broad leaf from the bunch and gave it to him. He
looked. He sniffed. He kicked it off the counter onto the floor and
proceeded to treat it like was a hockey puck. He was blissfully happy
for a few minutes until the leaf died of abuse. He does that every
time I bring out spinach. Some other plants he absolutely detests
like air plants. A friend gave me a Tilandsia and my cat would not
rest until he had completely destroyed the poor thing. I even hid it
from him several times but he searched it out and found it. It also
eventually died of abuse. He is a very curious cat and loves to watch
me cook. He doesn't kipe food he just watches me cut and chop and mix
and spice. He's fascinated by prep work. I am somewhat perplexed by
this because his own dietary preferences run to a common dry food
made according to an 'indoor cat formula'. He has only eaten chicken
twice in his life and only then with great trepidation and much
sniffing.
He is
less messy than I. And he isn't inclined to host loud parties Thanks
to the miracles of modern veterinary medicine he also has no interest
in breeding and is only mildly interested when he detects the
presence of loud horny females of his species. His interest in them
runs more toward removing them from his realm and lands, by force if
necessary than in achieving some transient sexual conquest. He is
definitely a peculiar cat. His name is Rupert L. Gato, at least
that's what it says on his birth certificate and voter registration
card.
No comments:
Post a Comment