Friday, November 30, 2007

Tinker and The Dude

One of my six-month-old adopted twin brothers tried to chew through the handle of my handbag last night, when I was over at my folks’ house for a visit. I noticed before he got very far, and hid the bag in a closet.

Ha! I'm playin' with you! Were you picturing a kid? I bet you were picturing babies. But! These adopted brothers that I speak of are my parents' newest set of cats. Kittens, still. And they are soooooo cute. They are just the sweetest, shmoopiest, silly-williest lil' hushie gooshie whoooza cute wiwwle boy! Are you the cutest lil' boy? Yes you are! Yes you are!


Where was I? Yes. Sadly, the old set of cats both departed for the big litter box in the sky within the past year. Lucy was a stray that we found at the Humane Society. When we first met her she had ear mites, and a skin condition that had caused all the hair from her rear end to fall off. Lucy did not let her bare bum affect her self-esteem. Once she had claimed her position as Queen Of The House, she grew her pants back and ruled with a regal arrogance that could only be lovable in a cat.

Mitsou was a show cat: one of those super-fuzzy Persian breeds with her nose pushed all the way in and up between her eyeballs. She came from a proper breeder, with a pedigree. Try telling her that. All she wanted to do was prowl around out of doors, hunting mice and rooting around in dirt. Leaves and bugs got swept up in her long belly-fur and ended up inside, on my mother’s clean floors. Because of her messed-up face, (I’m telling you, it’s cruel to breed cats like that) she had no end of health problems. I got very handy at forcibly applying ear drops, eye drops, and pills to the various facial orifices of my very uncooperative patient.

(Seriously, if you need to give your cat a pill, and she keeps spitting it back out, call me. I’ll jump on a plane and come over to your place to help out. Neighbours used to call on me to give their cats their daily medications. But I digress.)

The new guys came from the Humane Society. All they do day in and day out is wrestle their way from one end of the house to the other, with stops along the way for tipping over houseplants, chewing through the phone cord, and jumping up on tables while people are trying to have a civilized dinner. Sure, they’re a little spoiled. But they’re doing everything little brothers are supposed to do: being annoying, getting into my stuff, and jumping into my lap for irresistible snuggles. And purring! Can your little brother do that?

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