Today, the girls are guest posting on another blog, talking all about their pets and what they can learn from them. I suppose imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but I feel like if I talk about my fur-kids today, it's totally ripping off K&L. But I may be okay with that, as I'm headed to Iowa this afternoon, and may not have the strength (or the wifi signal) to post this weekend.
(And as I explained before, though I use fake names to protect the guilty in my human family, the pets want you to know their real names. Maybe its so you can send them treats.)
Our first baby, brought home 3 months before Larry Potter made his appearance. He was the runt of the litter...this little grey furball with yellow eyes; so cute, we took pictures of him every chance we got. In fact, days before LP was born, I was getting sick of the constant "Have you had the baby yet?" calls and emails, so I took a picture of Mo, attached it to an email and called it, "Pictures of the Baby." People were NOT happy with that.
And since 2002, he's endured moves (4 of them, actually), babies, toddlers, children (all with varying degrees of reluctancy), two other cats, and only 3 trips to the vet. (Animal lovers, take you finger off the speed dial to PETA...the last time I took him to the vet, he was red-flagged. Meaning they put a red flag on his file, saved for the really, really mean dogs. The vet had to wear hawk-handling gloves, and then told me that he was fine. She also may or may not have said that he was good for the rest of his life.)
Now, let me make this clear. He loves us. Years ago, I made the earth-shattering revelation that Mo was like me in cat form: he tolerated his own family, was nice to strangers, mean to those he feels threatens our family (even if it's just a babysitter or wayward in-law invading his space), likes to sit next to you but not on you, and would sell his soul for a bowl of Frosted Mini-Wheats. He doesn't like to be affectionate, but we know where we stand. When Hoover was a newborn sleeping in his crib, my father-in-law was over and trying to fix something upstairs. Mo stood on the landing of the stairs and would not let him by. Almost like, "There's a baby up there. It's not yours. And you look like you could take him. So get by ME first."
These days, Mo likes to go outside and greet his adoring public. My mom says he's interviewing for a new family, which could be true. He lets small children and foreign workers pet him on their way by our house. People have come up to me while I'm outside to ask where the cat is...people I don't know...and often in broken English. It's like Mo's own foreign advocacy group. But he's only liking this because they aren't in his house. To strangers, he's the nicest cat they've ever seen. To the people that have been inside our house, he's a threat to himself and others. It's a fine line.
A few months ago, our beloved other cat Max died. It was the hardest thing I've ever dealt with as an adult. Before we knew it, we got another cat. A kitten. And he was adorable. We brought him home and let the adorableness help our broken hearts.
So, it's only been a few months with Clark. And I can say without feeling guilty, that he is the dumbest cat alive. And I'm a cat person. Now, I know that he's in his teenage-rebellion cat phase right now, but I feel like natural selection is at work here. He climbs up on my kitchen counters (not my favorite, and yes MOM, I shoo him away) and then sits...with his back paws inside the toaster. I'm afraid for what happens the day he's too heavy to get up with out stepping back on his back paws...and toasting his hind legs.
A couple of weeks ago, I was headed downstairs when Clark was playing in the window in our staircase. He jumped up and came back down, with his tail getting caught in the cord for the blinds, Bugs Bunny style. He was hanging upside-down by his tail. Thank God I was there to set him free.
We have another window by where the cat food bowls are. I saw him sit with his hind legs in the window, stretching the front-half all the way down to his water dish to drink. Um, hey Clark, you have to go at it from
the other side...see where that space is in front of the bowl? You sit there.
And then there are the appliances. The dryer, sure, I understand. He's a cat....I've had other cats that try to sneak into the dryer...but when the clothes are warm and dry. He's trying to get in while I'm loading cold soggy clothes. And everytime I lift him out and shoo him away, he jumps right back in. He also tries the same thing with the same results in the dishwasher. And the refrigerator. Just yesterday, I saw him crouching down to jump into the washing machine. Maybe in another life, he worked for the Brothers Main.
The most dumb thing though is his interaction with Mozart. As explained, Mo is a very...particular...cat. And he's not happy with Clark's arrival. He lets him know this at every chance he gets. But Clark? Never a bent ear, never a hiss. Just a big, annoying jump on top of Mo wanting to play. Mo lets him know his disapproval by a hiss and a swat and a growl. But Clark just isn't learning. I've seen squirrels learn faster than Clark (and I have a bunch of inbred squirrels running around my yard. I've seen them carry legos to their nests).
(By the way, I'd love to include pictures of these guys. But my camera is 110 years old. So, if you want to send me a digital camera to review. I'll do it. I'll review the HELL out of it. And then I can post more pictures.)
But Clark is very snuggly, and he's definitely Mini-Me's cat. But somewhere along the line, he failed cat school. Like laying down on a person. He doesn't balance his weight correctly and as soon as he dozes off, he falls to the floor because his legs dangle off the couch while his head lays on a lap. And when I'm the computer, he comes up and sits on the girls so I can't see what I'm typing. (Okay, that may not be dumb cat behavior, but I find it particularly annoying, especially when he back the truck up so his unwiped kitty butthole is an inch from my nose.)
One of the girls refers to her cat as Kim Jong Il, the dictator of North Korea. If that's her cat, then Mo is an aging Mob Boss, and Clark is Patrick Star from Spongebob. I'm so proud.