Cattitude

My cat is a jerk.

Seriously.

He runs around as if he owns this place, trashing my floor with his ill gotten finds, dollar store toys and kitty kibble.

He pounces on my boob and my face at any hour he should choose, apparently he prefers the hours of 3am to 6am when I'm clearly sound asleep and in my dream state. Mr. Baxter loves watching me nearly die from a scareattack, oh yes, it suits his lil cat fancy just fine!

He's got such catittude I don't know what to do with him. Guess those tuxedo kitties where made with a built-in of you-are-nothing-I-am-God attitude. I mean hell, who else do you know that's all dressed to party 24 hours a day seven days a week. I'm sure on the inside he's complimenting himself for being so fab-u-lahsss! Poor Baxie. To own such a trashy unkept thing like me must be embarrassing. Especially when I come around to bring him home while he's kickin it on the stoop with his hobo kitty pals. Po Baxie.

It's a love/hate relationship at best.

I love him when he's cute and cuddly. I love it when he greets me at the door, or jumps on the hood of my car, carefully scaling my window. I love it when he headbutts my cheek and does a belly flop on my chest. I love when we play the hide and swat-melissa's-leg-because-I'm-hiding-and-you-just-ran-by-me-so-I'm-swatting-you-bitch game. (let me advise you I clearly know he's "hiding" under the table, but the game goes on a played...he usually gets a tackle or five so I figure it'll even it's self out in due time...) Most of all I love his uncanny way of insisting upon not being left out of the bathroom. Of all places, right? You would think kitty kats of his statute wouldn't dare be found loitering in a human litter box.


But oh no!!! God forbid if Mr. Baxter misses me squat on the toilet to pee. Oh good god no!!!! It's a tragedy!! I'm in for an earful for the next two minutes if I don't. Or most times he'll try to break his way in....it's amazing what that lil guy will do. At least I get a giggle out of hilarity of this ordeal, which tends to happen every morning when I head to the john.

I guess it's a good thing cats have a two minute attention span. Or I'm sure we'd have many more adventures of odd-kitty-fun.

Cats are strange little creatures, this is for certain... and mine, was cursed from the day I named him.

Baxter was probably not the best choice, his nickname is now " bastard" Cleverly named by my brother upon first meeting. I guess the lil guy never really got a fair chance at being anything more than jerk.

poor lil guy.

Its a love hate relationship at best. But in the end he'll still be a jerk. And I'll still clean up his kitty kibble while he pounces on my hand with every sweep I make.

He'll still stick his nose in my right nostril every morning or in my mouth should I dare yawn.

Of course he'll be my wake up call every crack of dawn with a swat on the head demanding me I pet him, or feed him, or whichever hair seems to be up his butt at that given moment.

And I'll still be there to feed him. pet him. tackle him. Tell him no every five seconds when he decides to get into more kitty cat mischief.

It's a love hate relationship at best.