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3.30.2011

At least he doesn't smell

My cat?  Kinda has it made.  Food regularly delivered to a location only he can access (namely, away from the pig dogs).  Run of an old house with lots of hiding places to inspect.  Two dogs and a Monkey to harass with his kick ass Kung Fu moves.  I even let him sleep pretty much anywhere he wants, be it on the couch (rarely), in Monkey's bed (when she's not in it), my bed, the coffee table (yes, this is actually a favorite post of his), or even in the kitchen window sill (when it's open).  He even takes over the dog bed when the mood strikes him.

 

In general, I leave him alone, he leaves me alone.  Which is what made him an appealing as a pet in the first place .  Not *him* specifically, but cats in general.  Neediness freaks me out, and cats?  They do not hesitate to let you know that they don't need you in their lives, and any indication other wise is a damn lie.  This system works for us.  Yes, there is occasionally snuggling, petting, playing.  But it's generally always on his terms.  Rarely do I seek him out for a cuddle buddy.  It's not like he's neglected.  I always punch holes in the boxes I lock him in as punishment.

So why is it, that in the dark of night, as I am laying down to go to sleep, in those few precious silent moments I get to enjoy prior to drifting off into sleepy land, does that ass hat of a cat feel he needs to jump onto my bed, curl himself into a deceptively warm fuzzy ball of happiness, and begin to lick himself clean OVER EVERY SQUARE INCH OF HIS BODY?

Have you ever heard a cat clean itself?  It's not the quietest thing ever.  That sand paper tongue running against the grain of a thousand little cat hairs in the dark of night somehow has the decibel equivalency of shattering concrete with a jack hammer.  And he chews his nails.  HE CHEWS HIS NAILS.  What...who....WHY?

I'm not a fan of listening to animals clean themselves.  I make the dogs do it in the other room.  It's gross.  Especially when they clean their...ahem...you know....business.  It's...well....I'm not going to get into a lot of detail here.  It's too gross, and gives me the heeby-jeebies.  There are some things even *I* won't describe in detail.  But you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about.

There are 23 and a half other hours in the day he could have taken care of his personal hygiene.  Why must he do it at that EXACT moment?  On my bed?  Next to my EAR?  EVERY.  SINGLE.  BLASTED.  NIGHT.

He keeps it up and I'll stop punching air holes in the damn boxes.    

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