Recently in Furry Family Members Category

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.

In part 2 of Cat Blogging, you get the distinct pleasure of meeting the smallest and most neurotic member of our family.

Name and Age:
Spot, 3 yrs. 6 mos.

Breed, coloring:
Silky Shorthair, black with a small patch of white on her belly, black pads and nose, yellow (crossed) eyes.

Nicknames:
Spoot, Spooty Patootie, Spotzilla, Miss Priss, Spotty Potty, Poopskins, Small Diet Poop, Skinny Minnie, Spootros Spootros Ghali. More than I can count.

Actual Name when we got her:
She got a spot of oil on her head and, thus became Spot. It stuck.

Why we got her:
To save her from a life of torture in the hands of T's cousin's kids. T and I had just started dating and he found the kittens on the side of the road. I knew I wanted one right away and he brought Spot down the next weekend. It was fate.

General disposition:
Neurotic.

Nickname When Bad:
She is almost never bad.

Favorite Pasttimes:
Being cute. Not trying new things.

Claim to fame:
Does not like to touch the floor. Can leap amazing distances.

Favorite toy:
Humans. Will play with string if in a very good mood.

Best trick:
Can jump from 2nd floor to bottom of stairs without making a sound.

Least favorite activities:
Fraternizing with the other cats.

Nickname when lying on the floor:
Cutie Spootie Patootie (usually said when she is writhing on her back looking adorable.

When upset, humans should:
Apologize, maybe buy her flowers.

Loves us most when she is:
Awake.

Medical history:
Has licked her armpits raw. Hates to have her fur out of place.

Yes, it has come to this. Oh, how the wishes-she-was-mighty has fallen. Since I just worked 9 hours AND grocery shopped AND have to bake a pie, I thought I would take the easy way out entertain you by introducing you to muh pets.

At the risk of her thinking I'm a stalker (seriously, I'm so not! I swear!),  SJ once had a post thingy on her blog that cracked me up about her cat, Taibas, and she looks EXACTLY like the elder statesman of our house. I've always wanted to do this for our cats because they have very interesting personalities and they are very much a part of our family.

Name and Age:
Lucky, 11 yrs. 7 mos.

Breed, coloring:
Shorthair, black with the occasional white hair, black pads and nose, green eyes.

Nicknames:
Lucky Duck(y), Luckster, Luckaroo Bonzai, Master Mouser, Plucky.

Actual Name when we got him:
He didn't have one. He was one of a large litter living under a trailer in a trailer park outside of town. He was only about a month old and soooo teeny! Pretty dirty, too.

Why we got him:
We lived in a rural area surrounded by tobacco, peanut and cotton fields. The first frost and/or harvest drove the field mice into our house and I couldn't handle finding them in the oven and cabinets (someday I'll tell you the story of Mousechwitz), and I insisted we get a cat, even if only to warn the mice away with his scent. I had no idea he would be a killing machine. I finally trained him to catch so I could release, but not before many, many presents were left for me. :(

General disposition:
Grumpy old man.

Nickname When Bad:
DemonCat

Favorite Pasttimes:
Plotting world domination. Reminiscing about his youth, especially as he rolls on the concrete patio in the sun. Chasing greeblings. Glaring.

Claim to fame:
Post-poop runaround.

Favorite toy:
Anything with catnip.

Best trick:
Says "Out" when you stand by the door and he wants to go out.

Least favorite activities:
Bathtime. Hugging. Anything requiring human contact.

Nickname When Lying on the Floor:
DeadCat

When upset, humans should:
RUN!!!

Loves us most when he is:
Hungry.

Medical history:
Allergic to fleas. Has licked himself practically bald in the past. All better now. :)