I know what you're thinking: long hair, pink cat toy . . . . What I sweet girl right? Wrong. The Cat is a dude. Of course, I named The Cat a girls name after a certain song by The Police thinking that he was a she, but the vet soon set me straight. (And anyway, with the snip-snip, he's a eunuch now, so . . . .)
The Cat is my third cat as an adult. The Working Dad is a begrudging cat owner, but they've reached a sort of detente. If it had been a choice between The Working Dad and The Cat, I would have chosen The Working Dad, but I would have been really sad about it. I'm glad The Working Dad loved me enough to tolerate the inconvenience of cat hair tumbleweeds and tracked cat litter . . . and the occasional smell of a ripe cat box. The Working Dad has, even, on rare occasions, declared The Cat to be not like other cats. And, he's not, really. He fetches, for instance, when he feels like it. And he generally has more interest in your attention than your average aloof feline. He is as doglike as a cat can be.
As luxurious as he looks, he is a mutt. His mom was colored just like him, only with short hair. The Cat has long and easily tangled hair, which is why, often, The Cat looks like this:
Yes, I get the cat professionally shaved, especially during warmer months, but I like to get him groomed about three times a year so that he doesn't develop horrible mats, which make him cranky and bitey. Cranky and bitey are never good traits in a cat, but particularly not in a cat who is the unwitting best friend of a brand new little boy.
Since The Boy was very small, The Cat has been a gentle, curious observer of the little creature. (To The Cat, we refer to The Boy as "New Cat.") Now that The Boy is mobile, The Cat is a lot more jumpy. I'm not sure he fancies being chased, but I know that he still likes The Boy, still wants to be around him. Every night when we go to put The Boy to bed, The Cat wants to be in the room too. He'll stay in the room with us until The Boy is asleep. The Boy is his kitten too, after all.
