Tuesday, July 26, 2011
I love Smokey. There are some days, though, that I’d love to throw his whiny little butt outside. Maybe dropkick is the right word.
He’s noisy. If you need a 4am wake-up, he’s your cat. He meows to go outside and when he’s hungry – which is 99% of the time. He also lets you know he’s up to something bad with this odd high pitched chatter. Basically the only time he’s quiet is when he’s eating or sleeping.
He’s too smart for his own good. He can open cupboard doors with ease and remove the lids from plastic containers.
He’s a menace. He knocks things off countertops just to get your attention. He also likes to pick fights with his housemates or drop a stinky turd in the nearest litter box, just to let you know he’s unhappy about something.
He’s a thief. He will eat just about anything. Everything is fair game to him. Watermelon, tomatoes, cantaloupe, green peppers, oatmeal, nuts. He’ll even chew on a lemon rind. You can’t leave anything where he can get it. There are baby locks on the cupboard where we store the garbage so he can’t get into it.
He’s the enforcer. He patrols our house, keeping the other cats in line. Sometimes, I think he feels he’s following my orders.
Smokey is lucky he’s a snuggly bug. He sleeps with me some nights, throws his little body against me with a sigh. Melts my heart every time.