The Crankee Yankee (my husband) and I have three cats. After our dear Pepper passed on last month (see “The Crankee Yankee’s Guardian Angel Has Gone Home”), we adopted Plumpy-Nut (see picture below), a stray we had been feeding for months. (Personally, we feel that Pepper picked him out just for us.) He is now a happy (and neutered!) and healthy member of the family, and comes in and out as he pleases.
Cats are generally a calming influence on people, and mostly, ours are. However, ours are also pretty darn sure that everything in the house belongs to them. They feel that our bed is theirs and become hugely offended if we want to stretch out in it. They understand that breakfast and dinner are served around the same times each day, and yet they constantly bug us for treats in between meals.
IMPORTANT NOTE: If you go off schedule even once, they will hound you forever because you did it ONCE. END NOTE: The same goes for kids.
They are very interested in whatever we are eating; Nala, our one female, especially. Whatever is on our plates, they want to check it out and sometimes eat it (or at least lick it). They seem to feel that part of their jobs is Food Inspector.
Our living room is filled with cat toys, perches, comfy kitty beds, scratching posts and pads. Oh sure, they enjoy them, but they also feel that every thing else in the house is for them exclusively. They aren’t shy about rearranging things, too. Last night Pookie (one of the boys) jumped on the kitchen table where the Crankee Yankee had sorted out coupons and bills and scattered everything to the four winds. He looked pretty pleased with himself, and if he could talk, he would have said, “You’re welcome!”
Cats make napping an art form. Any surface is is fair game; I’ve found cats snoozing in the sink, on window sills, on our pillows, in boxes, on a metal rack in the closet, on top of a new leather purse, under the bed in the middle of several dust bunnies, in the middle of a pile of clean laundry I haven’t sorted and put away yet, and sometimes in their own carriers. One cat I had a long time ago was found sound asleep on the kitchen counter in the fruit bowl (on top of three bananas and an orange).
Grooming is an important pastime for cats. Ours get pretty offended when we attempt to brush them (except for Plumpy-Nut, who is so round that he needs help cleaning his under carriage); they glare at us as if to say, “Do you think you can do a better job cleaning us? You don’t even use your tongue when you wash!” Once every bit of fur is in its proper place, they can settle into a day-long nap. They would prefer it if we refrain from patting them post-bath, however.
Surprisingly, cats seem to enjoy technology. I call Pookie my I.T. Guy, because each time I sit down to my computer, he stretches himself out between the screen and my keyboard. Which is fine as long as he lays low…I guess. My best friend and I have text terms for this, too:
- KOC = Kitty on (or near) Computer
- KOL = Kitty on Lap
That way we know to excuse any weird spelling in our emails. Sometimes Nala like to send her own emails. She once wrote one to my best friend which read: “HI &annk i99999999999999999df dnbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb 3489388888888888888888 sdsssssaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.” [punctuation supplied by me].
So, there you have it–in our house, anyway–the zen of cats. Which essentially means: “We do what we like when we like, and if you don’t like it, TOO BAD.”