This is Mischa, formerly known as Lucky. We found her along the road coming back from celebrating Koko's birthday last year. She hasn't grown much - probably because our other cat (see below) eats so much. We decided to rename her because originally we thought she was a boy. Natasha, one of Koko's friends who was along with us and who lives on a farm, inspected the kitten and deemed him a boy kitten. We took her word for it for several months. But when it came time to have his first vet visit, Kristie had Casey insepct and, sure enough, 'he' was a girl. So we changed the name. Mischa is a ball of energy. She moves in twitches and streaks. She doesn't meow either. She just squeaks. But she has captured our hearts.
Now here is my boy (Koko is doing his "Frankenstein pose"). This is Einstein, our 20 pound cat. I could write a book on this guy. He wasn't too thrilled about Mischa's arrival, but he has gotten used to her now.
We waited a little too long to have Einstein fixed. As a result, some of his 'urges' still linger. How shall I put it? He molests stuffed animals, towels, robes, socks, my back pack, blankets, and fuzzy pillows. Here I've caught him in the act with one of Koko's new stuffed bears (the tag is still on the poor bear's ear).
He was partial to Koko's fuzzy blue pillow until she hid it. Einer has even tried to corner Mischa a few times, but she is a fighter and way too quick for him. Usually once a week when I get home from work, I'll find a piece of clothing or towel lying suspiciously in the middle of the floor or under the table. Then I usually find Einer relaxing on the chaise lounge puffing on a cigarette.
It's particularly embarrassing when company is over and your obese cat saunters down the stairs with a stuffed animal clenched in his jaws like it's the red light district on Bourbon Street.
He never gives the items up easily either. He utters a deep gutteral "mmrrrraaaawwwww" that scares the hell out of me. In fact the first time he ever had an 'urge' was a day or two after his first fight at our old house.
And now I know why he had his first fight.
I was reluctant to let him out and kept an eye on him like any protective father. But he always returned and never strayed too far. So the days went by and then one time he came in limping badly. His front paw was hurting. We all nursed him and waited on him. In a day or two he was back to normal. In the back of my mind I strated worrying about rabbies since he hadn't had his shots.
Then one night as we were in bed, Einer hopped up and began kneading our quilt. He doe this quite often. But when he added the pelvic thrusts, I knew something was awry.
I went to push him off, and he hissed and swiped at me. I threatened him with a time out, but he hardly broke his thrusts and his tail began moving in sharp little swipes. If I didn't do something quickly, we'd have an unspeakable mess on our quilt. So I tore the quilt off the bed. Einer was still attached. Only now he was angry. He growled and began to chase me!
I used the blanket as a shield. I just knew I was going to have to get rabbies shots. But once I threw Einer and the quilt into the laundry room and quarantined him in there, the fit passed and he became the big fat lover he usually is.
That was our first hint of his dark side.
We've had dogs over the years run up and hump a leg or two (in one horrifying instance a few sumemrs ago Joker actually lifted his leg and urinated on our neighbor's leg), but I've never seen a cat do that to any objects. Well, I guess we all have needs, right?
No comments:
Post a Comment