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November 25, 2007
It's been nice...
This weekend, I took the opportunity to introduce you to three very
important members of my family. Now, I'm not one to constantly blog
about my cats but I will talk your ear off if I have the chance. Their
personalities are so interesting and different that I'm not sure their
three separate posts did them justice.
For instance, whose cats are they or, rather, who do they claim? Anyone with cats knows that you do not own cats, they own you, and our cats are no exception. Iggy is very attached to my daughter. He would spend every waking moment with her because he knows that, no matter what she is doing, he can get her to stop and play with him if he is cute enough. He is offended when he is shut out of her room at night and bored stiff when she spends time over her friends' houses. That's where I come in. At night and when she is gone, Iggy is my cat. I've always wanted an affectionate cat and I can pretend he is mine all night long.
Now Spot, she really is my cat. Although she likes to climb all over my son when he is on the couch (it must be the testosterone because she does the same thing to T), she spends most of the day sleeping on my bed. She also comes to me when she is scared, tired, lonely or hungry. She's my girl and she is braver and calmer around me. I'm the only one that can hug and love on her without making her all kinds of crazy.
Lucky ... can you really own a being of pure evil? Heh, ok, maybe I exaggerate but he it, in every way, a tom cat. He's persnickety, feisty, bad tempered and ill mannered. He tolerates the kids mostly because they feed him. He is demanding and will glare, sit on your feet, grab your ankle as you walk past, even pounce on and bite at your leg if he thinks you have forgotten to feed him. He listens to no one but me. If the kids try to discipline him, he just sits down a few feet away and dares them to bring it. He knows when I'm mad, though, and will stop whatever it is that he is doing when he hears my voice change. He also loves to play hide and seek with me, a game we have played since he was a kitten. I think he respects me because the X was not nice to him and I always held and protected him.
As you can see, we they are full of personality and very territorial. The three cats make up their own funny little dysfunctional family. Lucky is the grumpy old man sitting on the couch, shaking his fist at anyone that gets too close. Spot would rather just have some space and quiet time to herself. She is the shy spinster in the window, very busy contemplating the growth pattern of her fur and watching the world go by. Iggy, well, when he is bored, he goes looking for someone to play with. He's the annoying little neighborhood kid that is so cute, you can't help but like him, even though he drives you nuts.
This is a typical afternoon in our house. First, Iggy jumps on the back of the grumpy old man, trying to coax him into a friendly wrestling match, for which he is usually promptly slammed to the ground. You can see a gleam in Lucky's eyes afterwards, too, as though he is thinking "I still got it." Once he recovers, Iggy pounces on a usually sleeping Spot, causing her to flail and spaz, hissing and swatting at him and knocking anything in her path to the floor. Then comes the chase ... down the stairs, back up, around the bed, back down, around the living room, through the kitchen, back upstairs and on and on. I think he helps her come put of her shell and she secretly likes it. I've caught them curled up together several times and most nights you can find all three of them coexisting peacefully on my bed.
Truthfully, I can't imagine my life without my pets. They offer comfort, companionship and a loyalty rarely found in animals of the 2-legged variety. My pets have protected me from marauding mice, nuzzled me awake, let me hold them while I cried, and been wonderful additions to our family. Spot even had a paw in T and I forming such a close bond so early. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go clear the cats off my pillows and shake them out of my comforter so I can get some sleep.
For instance, whose cats are they or, rather, who do they claim? Anyone with cats knows that you do not own cats, they own you, and our cats are no exception. Iggy is very attached to my daughter. He would spend every waking moment with her because he knows that, no matter what she is doing, he can get her to stop and play with him if he is cute enough. He is offended when he is shut out of her room at night and bored stiff when she spends time over her friends' houses. That's where I come in. At night and when she is gone, Iggy is my cat. I've always wanted an affectionate cat and I can pretend he is mine all night long.
Now Spot, she really is my cat. Although she likes to climb all over my son when he is on the couch (it must be the testosterone because she does the same thing to T), she spends most of the day sleeping on my bed. She also comes to me when she is scared, tired, lonely or hungry. She's my girl and she is braver and calmer around me. I'm the only one that can hug and love on her without making her all kinds of crazy.
Lucky ... can you really own a being of pure evil? Heh, ok, maybe I exaggerate but he it, in every way, a tom cat. He's persnickety, feisty, bad tempered and ill mannered. He tolerates the kids mostly because they feed him. He is demanding and will glare, sit on your feet, grab your ankle as you walk past, even pounce on and bite at your leg if he thinks you have forgotten to feed him. He listens to no one but me. If the kids try to discipline him, he just sits down a few feet away and dares them to bring it. He knows when I'm mad, though, and will stop whatever it is that he is doing when he hears my voice change. He also loves to play hide and seek with me, a game we have played since he was a kitten. I think he respects me because the X was not nice to him and I always held and protected him.
As you can see, we they are full of personality and very territorial. The three cats make up their own funny little dysfunctional family. Lucky is the grumpy old man sitting on the couch, shaking his fist at anyone that gets too close. Spot would rather just have some space and quiet time to herself. She is the shy spinster in the window, very busy contemplating the growth pattern of her fur and watching the world go by. Iggy, well, when he is bored, he goes looking for someone to play with. He's the annoying little neighborhood kid that is so cute, you can't help but like him, even though he drives you nuts.
This is a typical afternoon in our house. First, Iggy jumps on the back of the grumpy old man, trying to coax him into a friendly wrestling match, for which he is usually promptly slammed to the ground. You can see a gleam in Lucky's eyes afterwards, too, as though he is thinking "I still got it." Once he recovers, Iggy pounces on a usually sleeping Spot, causing her to flail and spaz, hissing and swatting at him and knocking anything in her path to the floor. Then comes the chase ... down the stairs, back up, around the bed, back down, around the living room, through the kitchen, back upstairs and on and on. I think he helps her come put of her shell and she secretly likes it. I've caught them curled up together several times and most nights you can find all three of them coexisting peacefully on my bed.
Truthfully, I can't imagine my life without my pets. They offer comfort, companionship and a loyalty rarely found in animals of the 2-legged variety. My pets have protected me from marauding mice, nuzzled me awake, let me hold them while I cried, and been wonderful additions to our family. Spot even had a paw in T and I forming such a close bond so early. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go clear the cats off my pillows and shake them out of my comforter so I can get some sleep.
