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I might or might not have mentioned that Jack moved in with Liam and me. My folks had collected one too many cats after Abby, the cat of the late Grandma Robbins, joined the family and faied to "play nice with others." So, as the ever-helpful daughter, offered to take a cat off their hands. Liam is new to the kitty-servitude world, and Jack is relatively low-maintenance (and besides, he WAS my cat to begin with), so we opt to take Jack. Since his arrival in Kalamazoo, we have become accostomed to his varitable plethora of ideosycracies. His snores have much "umph" and can be heard across the apartment. They have a slow rise in pitch and decibel value until it reaches a climax and begins the falling action of kitty-moaning. The moan finally peters off, and the rising action of crecendoing nasal/sinal cloggedness resumes. It's a vicious cycle. He begs for food constantly, even just seconds after he's finished a respectable helping. I tred to tell him that there were starving kitties in China that wouldgraciously accept his rations, but Liam pointed out that felines aren't usually on the eating end of the food chain in China. Good point. He is outspoken with his criticisms of Liam's perfectly good driving. He thinks he owns my website, sitting on my lap and making unsolicited edits whenever I'm working on it. I honestly don't mind that he likes to pretend to have hobbies more constructive than licking his empty, pointess scrotum for several hours a day, but I'm not sure web design is the ticket. He considers any amorous activity in the apartment an exciting spectator sport. Snuggling is on his terms. He has to choose when and where, and he will leave if challenged. Preferred zones of discomfort are necks, groins, feet, and right between Liam and me. Cats... Post a comment in response: |
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