Here Goes Nothing.....

Today's pondering is about my cat, Mr. Big. He's a big 'ol bag-o-fur that I love in spite of his personality and tendency to drive me batty with worry or annoyance. He sheds wherever he lays and he never sticks to one spot so it's not like I can concentrate the fur into one area for easy cleanup (did I mention my boyfriend is allergic?). He whines every night for wet food even though his kibble bowl is full and when he finally gets the wet food (after raising his voice an octave and increasing the frequency of each meow, which in his tone sounds much like "NOW, NOW, NOW") he leaves bites of it to get crusty and hard for me to clean. He goes outdoors but refuses to poop there hence leaving me with a big mess in the litter box and a smattering of gray granules all over the laundry room. He sometimes cries loudly in the middle of the night or the wee hours of the morning for absolutely no reason at all - none, other than to wake his slave (me) from a pleasant albeit light slumber. When he does go out he rarely returns when called and instead comes back at his leisure, which is usually around 3am. And lately after these returns various chunks of fur are missing, as well as his collar and tag causing my heartrate to elevate and my inherited "worry gene" to go into overdrive. As far as affection goes on my end, when I pet him a millisecond longer than he'd like, or I touch a hair a centimeter off the beaten path.....hell hath no fury like an overloved cat - he bites!!! And not that "play bite" that many naive fools think of when they first approach him. We're talking chunks of skin outta your hand, bleeding won't stop so easy bites. He doesn't know how to play bite or play scratch - it's an all-out attack on his foe and he's a scrappy little fella so watch out!

So why the heck do I love this loud, mean, high-maintenance furball? I first fell in love the night I brought him home from the shelter. They told me to keep him in the bathroom at least the first night if not more so that he wouldn't hide under the bed - the bathroom would make him more comfortable with his own surroundings. 30 minutes after I got him home he had comfortably sniffed the entire bathroom, eaten a bit, AND used the litter box. He was bored and ready to explore some more - no hiding for this cat!

Then there's the mashing. I love the purry mashing. When he jumps up on my chest, and as my friend Sarah says, he starts "making biscuits" - almost like he's kneading me, or the comfy blanket, or his cat bed....to get it just perfect for him to settle into all snugly. Then, like a stuffy Brit debutant, sits/lays down with perfect poise and posture. I give him a slight scratch under then chin and on come the purr machines! I love it!

And this is a new one.........when he goes outside, I love love love the 'scratch and roll' he does on the concrete. When he goes outside, one of his first activities in the routine is to Stop. Drop, and Roll on the concrete. I can't really figure out why but he seems to love it. Does he want to get filthy? Does it scratch him? Is it the temperature of the surface? Beats me. 

Lastly, he's a dear and loyal friend.  Over the last few years, any time I've felt lonely or homesick, he's little eyes look at me and all is right with the world.  I love Mr. Big...........I really do.

I promise no other blogs from this site will be this boring...........it was my first one. Live and learn.