In his second year, Moggie is now fully integrated into our household. This means he has had time to develop the bad habits that plague cat owners everywhere while being fully reassured we will love him forever. Such as waking up his humans in terrible ways at 7AM for breakfast. The underside of my bed looks like a toddler with razor sharp claws crawled upside down and ripped apart the entire cloth lining to shreds. (See, earlier statement about waking up humans in terrible ways.) Outside of this, he is still a sweet, loving cat. Many nights, we go to sleep nuzzling heads while he purrs at maximum volume. (Seth: While I am slowly being pushed off the bed.) Moggie loves to lick our faces, fingers and toes. He head bumps to get attention. You may be asking, don't I check every cat before adoption for drooling? How I am happy to be licked by a cat?
Firstly, there's a difference between a cat that leaks drool every time it purrs and a cat that just likes to lick people. Secondly, I grew up with dogs. Not small dogs, big dogs. Being licked by a dog is several orders of magnitude more disgusting than being licked by a cat. I love dogs, but being licked by a dog still makes me run to wash my hands afterwards. In comparison, a cat's tongue feels more like being licked with damp sandpaper. I find it quite pleasant, assuming I'm not licked on my eyelids or an open wound. (Seth: Being licked on the face by a cat at 7AM is still disgusting though.)
Even though he's the size of about 20 kittens gathered together in a ball, Moggie still behaves somewhat like a kitten. He's excitable and enthusiastic about moving objects. Helping make the bed is his favourite household chore. Hunting Seth's toes under the blanket before bed is the best. He enjoys helping with everything. Due to some weird fight for dominance with Seth, Moggie has made it his job to steal Seth's seat whether it be his office chair or preferred couch. We know he's actively stealing the seats because he deliberately waits until Seth is walking back towards said seat to take it where Seth can watch his seat being stolen. Usually with a satisfactory, "Mrp." If Seth has not yet touched the seat that day, it is beneath his notice. Maybe Moggie thinks he has a chance to challenge Seth because he's bigger than the average cat, but he doesn't quite realise my husband is also somewhat giant. Only Seth can comfortably hold our cat upside down for disciplinary purposes. Seth is obviously the disciplinary parent since I'm hopeless. If my cat has a tantrum every two hours to demand a meal, my idea of dealing with it is to yank the cat off the furniture at the appropriate times and ignore him until he goes away. After about three hours of a flailing toddler tantrum, Seth will either just feed the cat or throw him outside and shut the window. My cat continues to be a leading cause of death in dungeons.
When not echo-locating us with his Moggie Sonar for food, Moggie spends his daylight hours visiting our neighbours to have rude conversations with their cats (and at least one dog). He is a sturdy, muscular cat alongside his chonky bits. Our neighbouring cats are suitably annoyed. The little black cat next door (who we found out is fully outdoors and has a long history of dealing with young upstarts) gets back at Moggie in the evenings when he is locked inside by sitting calmly where Moggie can see him through the kitchen window. That's all he has to do, sit calmly and maybe clean himself very languidly. This sends Moggie into a tizzy of scrabbling at the kitchen window, besmirching his honour as a cat while I laugh hysterically. (Seth: Our cat is a doofus.)
I get to claim my cat is sweet and loving because he's the first cat I've met who thanks me for feeding him. When I bring out food, there's a 75% chance he will chirp, purr and even lean against my feet. Every cat I've fed up until now, even other people's cats, wail at me like a banshee until I put the bowl down. I have low standards, okay? When your cat gets five (small) meals and a nap but still accuses you of mistreatment every single day you need to take what you can get. Oh, he's also finally as soft and fluffy as a cloud, the proof that he receives sufficient pets. Whenever he's on the bed and he notices I'm stirring, he'll come over to purr on my shoulder and put me back to sleep. On rare occasion, he'll flop against me so I can hug him like a plushie. Guys, hugging a fluffy animal like a plushie in bed is my #2 Ultimate Sleeping Goal. (#1 is going to sleep on Totoro's tummy.) (Seth: I won't fit.)
Seth actually hugs Moggie like a plushie every morning the moment he senses him nearby because if he doesn't, he gets licked on the face. This in itself would probably be yucky but okay if Moggie didn't then bite his nose. Yes, Moggie bites for attention. There's a fine line to distinguish when he'll just lick you affectionately and when he'll bite you. If he looks hangry, retrieve whatever appendage it is before it gets bit. I always thought "ankle biter" was some cute phrase someone thought up to describe human toddlers. Little did I expect it was a real description of an actual life form. If we must, human toddlers are also actual life forms. Virtually all of them drool and as part of their growth, they undergo a phase where they need to nibble everything at least once to make sure it is friendly. Thus, Moggie is like a toddler (minus the drool) not in the sense he has the intelligence of a two-year-old but in the sense that he nibbles everything, throws ferocious tantrums and sulks when made to time-out between his people who are ostensibly watching television but really rubbing his tummy while he gets grumpier and cuter.
Firstly, there's a difference between a cat that leaks drool every time it purrs and a cat that just likes to lick people. Secondly, I grew up with dogs. Not small dogs, big dogs. Being licked by a dog is several orders of magnitude more disgusting than being licked by a cat. I love dogs, but being licked by a dog still makes me run to wash my hands afterwards. In comparison, a cat's tongue feels more like being licked with damp sandpaper. I find it quite pleasant, assuming I'm not licked on my eyelids or an open wound. (Seth: Being licked on the face by a cat at 7AM is still disgusting though.)
Even though he's the size of about 20 kittens gathered together in a ball, Moggie still behaves somewhat like a kitten. He's excitable and enthusiastic about moving objects. Helping make the bed is his favourite household chore. Hunting Seth's toes under the blanket before bed is the best. He enjoys helping with everything. Due to some weird fight for dominance with Seth, Moggie has made it his job to steal Seth's seat whether it be his office chair or preferred couch. We know he's actively stealing the seats because he deliberately waits until Seth is walking back towards said seat to take it where Seth can watch his seat being stolen. Usually with a satisfactory, "Mrp." If Seth has not yet touched the seat that day, it is beneath his notice. Maybe Moggie thinks he has a chance to challenge Seth because he's bigger than the average cat, but he doesn't quite realise my husband is also somewhat giant. Only Seth can comfortably hold our cat upside down for disciplinary purposes. Seth is obviously the disciplinary parent since I'm hopeless. If my cat has a tantrum every two hours to demand a meal, my idea of dealing with it is to yank the cat off the furniture at the appropriate times and ignore him until he goes away. After about three hours of a flailing toddler tantrum, Seth will either just feed the cat or throw him outside and shut the window. My cat continues to be a leading cause of death in dungeons.
When not echo-locating us with his Moggie Sonar for food, Moggie spends his daylight hours visiting our neighbours to have rude conversations with their cats (and at least one dog). He is a sturdy, muscular cat alongside his chonky bits. Our neighbouring cats are suitably annoyed. The little black cat next door (who we found out is fully outdoors and has a long history of dealing with young upstarts) gets back at Moggie in the evenings when he is locked inside by sitting calmly where Moggie can see him through the kitchen window. That's all he has to do, sit calmly and maybe clean himself very languidly. This sends Moggie into a tizzy of scrabbling at the kitchen window, besmirching his honour as a cat while I laugh hysterically. (Seth: Our cat is a doofus.)
I get to claim my cat is sweet and loving because he's the first cat I've met who thanks me for feeding him. When I bring out food, there's a 75% chance he will chirp, purr and even lean against my feet. Every cat I've fed up until now, even other people's cats, wail at me like a banshee until I put the bowl down. I have low standards, okay? When your cat gets five (small) meals and a nap but still accuses you of mistreatment every single day you need to take what you can get. Oh, he's also finally as soft and fluffy as a cloud, the proof that he receives sufficient pets. Whenever he's on the bed and he notices I'm stirring, he'll come over to purr on my shoulder and put me back to sleep. On rare occasion, he'll flop against me so I can hug him like a plushie. Guys, hugging a fluffy animal like a plushie in bed is my #2 Ultimate Sleeping Goal. (#1 is going to sleep on Totoro's tummy.) (Seth: I won't fit.)
Seth actually hugs Moggie like a plushie every morning the moment he senses him nearby because if he doesn't, he gets licked on the face. This in itself would probably be yucky but okay if Moggie didn't then bite his nose. Yes, Moggie bites for attention. There's a fine line to distinguish when he'll just lick you affectionately and when he'll bite you. If he looks hangry, retrieve whatever appendage it is before it gets bit. I always thought "ankle biter" was some cute phrase someone thought up to describe human toddlers. Little did I expect it was a real description of an actual life form. If we must, human toddlers are also actual life forms. Virtually all of them drool and as part of their growth, they undergo a phase where they need to nibble everything at least once to make sure it is friendly. Thus, Moggie is like a toddler (minus the drool) not in the sense he has the intelligence of a two-year-old but in the sense that he nibbles everything, throws ferocious tantrums and sulks when made to time-out between his people who are ostensibly watching television but really rubbing his tummy while he gets grumpier and cuter.