I have a cat. He’s an orange tabby with way more personality than brains. My husband has a theory that the smart cats are more aloof, hence the ones with personality make good pets but have short-comings in the intellectual department. This cat is undeniable proof of his theory.
Remember the beautiful bag I made with the Big Shot? Well, I had help. When I posted about the bag, my daughter told me I needed to share the pictures of my helper with you. I know her reasoning. She’s living in Australia now and she misses this big knucklehead. Most mornings about 3am I would be more than glad to send him to her. So Carol, these are for you:
You’ve heard of curiosity killing the cat? If curiosity doesn’t get to him, I might be tempted to help.
OK, if you have a cat I’m sure you know what’s coming next, right??
At this point I yell at him and tell him to beat it. Unfortunately, this cat has a mis-placed worship crisis. I am his Cat-Mother, the one who feeds him, brushes him, and gives him his pill (don’t ask me why, he thinks it’s a treat to have a little black sphere crammed down his throat every morning). I am also Head Nurse/Veterinary Technician, cleaning and bandaging his wounds when he finds himself on the losing end of a turf battle. He feels obligated to grace me with his company.
Of course he’s purring. You know how long this lasted?
He was actually pulling the pins out of the pin cushion with his teeth. At that point I decided it was a beautiful day outside and he needed some fresh air. Pronto.
When we brought him home we named him Duke but no one calls him that. The kids call him Pookie. My husband usually calls him Knucklehead. I generally call him Meat Ball, Captain Stupid Head, or when I’m really annoyed, something unprintable. Use your imagination.