I have this really adorable (monster) cat, Tigger. Now, always remember that when you name an animal, they will generally live up to that name. Granted, Tigger was a Tigger before he moved into my Chicago apartment (which is now his, he just lets me stay there and pay his rent) but he sure lives up to the title.
A great example would be this morning. That sweet, lovable orange and white tabby cat of mine turned into this psychotic blurr that ran through my apartment full speed. I will admit he has talent, he does this without damaging anything -- except for me on occasion.
He leaps on the bed, off the bed, through the living room, flies from the bedroom door onto the bed, and makes a final leap landing directly on my back. Luckily he does not weigh nearly as much as my cats in Michigan (of course, he wouldn't be able to pounce like that if he did) but when a medium sized cat jumps on your back with his back claws out, lets just say it didn't tickle.
He continues his rampage a little longer and then finally curls up on my arm and starts licking me with that sandpaper tongue of his. I pulled my arm out and shoved it under the pillow to make him stop. He then starts licking my elbow. I finally shove him towards the end of the bed. After a few more attempts to clean me (that is what cats do when they lick right? I swear he's thinking, "I have to get that awful human smell off you!"), he finally curled up and went to sleep.
Finally, I can get a little more sleep . . . what is that? Argh! My alarm clock!
Don't get me wrong, I adore Tigger. He's great entertainment - in the daylight hours. He's spunky, playful, and affectionate. But like a child, he doesn't know when enough is enough. But also like a child, he curls up next to me, gives me those pity eyes, and I just can't stay mad at him for long.
Well, you may think I am crazy for blogging about my kitty cat but remember my warning, this blog is "Like a box of chocolates . . . you never know what you're gonna get!"
Until next time . . .
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