My cat is a jerk. In my house we've always had animals. My dad's the biggest animal lover in the world and therefore the biggest pushover whenever it came to pets (my mom? not so much but dad always managed to win her over). We've always had a dog and at least two cats. I was raised to believe that our pets were really just furrier siblings, except they were the ones you never picked on. Should a cat be sleeping in the only available chair in the living room, you sit on the floor. Should the cat be soaking wet, you get them a towel and towel them off till they are dry, regardless of how many times they go in and out. Our dog had monthly appointments scheduled with the groomer, and was brushed at least 4 times a week. People that come into the farm used to look for the dog and bring her cookies, needless to say she was seriously over weight.
Now somehow our cats tend to be very eccentric, we do not raise typical run of the mill house cats, oh no these? These cats are spoiled rotten and all have eccentric personalities.
Examples? Bart who weighed 25 pounds thought he was a dog (ate dog food, liked to be brushed), and liked to eat your toothbrush, and had a thing for eating popcorn. Stella: the cat who liked to climb curtains, rip open cat treat bags, and would let only my dad pet her (she would hiss at the rest of us) Her tail was also permanently kinked but we got her like that. Bear: loved to sleep on your textbooks, newspaper, trashy chick lit book, paperwork or laptop just to be in your face, she would also enjoy rubbing her butt against your face (ensuring a mouthful of cat fur). Lucy: enjoyed peeing on EVERYTHING (both before and after we got her fixed) and liked to pick on all other cats (we HAD to give her to a family with no other pets and apparently she's stopped peeing like crazy). Ceaser: Liked to try and cross the road and as a result got hit by a car and broke his back and had to be caged for 6 weeks to let it heal, he now gets scared by loud noises and runs away from the vacuum. Elmo: the least friendly yet most demanding cat you will ever meet, he will get in your face and demand you pet him, should you not he will claw you and yes he has caused the need for stitches when he doesn't get his way.
All of the above? They do not compare to the crazy antics and annoying ways of my current cat Monty. We recently lost a cat and once that happened my dad in total despare (we lost our 14 year old black lab only a month before) sent my sister to our local SPCA (we only rescue cats, no specialty cats for us) and that is how we got Monty. My sister B (I have two sisters K and B) claimed that she picked Monty because he was "cuddly and friendly" which we later discovered actually meant he was an "independent con-artist". This cat? He does not like to cuddle, he does not like to be pet. He does like to be around people (which I suspect is a result of being alone all the time in the SPCA)but only on his own terms.
So fine, he likes to be around, the cat loves attention in the form of being fed and sleeping on the chair you want to sit on, but what makes him a Jerk? Oh how about the fact that he will jump on the counter top and eat whatever you're trying to prepare for dinner if you don't watch him carefully? He shreds textbooks, newspapers, napkins, paper towels, kleenex, toilet paper, and any other possible paper product that we forget to put away. He drinks out of the toilet and leaves the seat wet (yes we leave out a dish of clean water for him but apparently the toilet is where its at), he brings in dead rabbits and HIDES them behind the TV or bookshelves. Today's asshole cat adventure? Clean laundry gone black.
With things like grad and the one job interview I had, along with the idea that I'm looking into sports therapy programs for a years time, I have let things like laundry go to the way side. So today? I finally get up early and decide to do laundry. I wash it, I fold it and then I had to run out and get a bunch of my grad pictures printed to give out to family tonight. I come home and where is Monty? Filthy dirty having been out in the garden with my mom rolling in COMPOST, sleeping on top of my freshly washed, newly folded and some ironed, WHITE laundry. So I pout with absolute frustration, and wander upstairs where I tell my dad what happened. His comment? "Don't disturb him, he's had a very stressful day. Playing in the garden is hard work". I'm going to repeat this back to him next time he complains about the cat sleeping in his chair leaving him with nowhere to sit.
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