Friday, March 11, 2011

So soft and pointy... like a cashmere cactus

Remember last year we got a kitten? Or, more accurately, Sudo got a kitten that I bottle fed and wiped his little bottom and did all that crap for.

Our kitten is now a cat.

And he’s got quite the personality.

Felix is demanding. Case in point: Two minutes ago I was trying to type up a blog entry. A blog entry NOT about Felix. Evidently, Felix feels he should be spotlighted on the blog and therefore made a concerted effort to sit squarely on top of my keyboard. He typed out a series of numbers (most of them being the number 9 – a direct nod to the fact that he has 9 lives, I assume) and looked at me with that cat look that means, I assume, “What are you going to do about it, human?”

Of course, I laughed and pet him on the head before picking him up and gently placing him on the floor. Of which he had none of. He quickly jumped right back on the keyboard, obviously to type his demands out more furiously.

Felix loves water. Sort of. I mean, he doesn’t really want to get wet. But he loves water. If there is water running somewhere in the house, Felix must be there. He will come running full speed, barreling through any obstacle that may get in his way (people, doors, baskets of clean laundry), to get to where the water is. And then he will bat at the water continuously as it runs from the faucet. If this dueling of the faucet happens to get in the way of a human trying to wash something, Felix couldn’t give a flying friskie. He must battle the water and show it that he is the superior species.

Felix wants to be outside. I’m sure his feral roots are calling out to him from deep within his kitty genetics. When the front door is open, he can span the length of the house in mere seconds to squeeze himself through whatever crack is left open and triumph to have found himself outside. Once his paws touch grass he freezes, however, allowing for relatively easy access in retrieving him and putting him back inside.

Felix must be at the highest point possible at all times. The top of the refrigerator, the top of the credenza on my desk, the shelf on the top of the closet, all of these are places in which Felix can be found. His dismounts are not always graceful and he has been known to knock over many things placed in these high spaces when he decides to come down to earth. So far, nothing has been broken, but it’s only a matter of time.

Felix would love for the dog to play with him. If Sudo is sleeping, unsuspecting of his doom, Felix will ferociously pounce upon his head and bite his oversized ears until Sudo has no choice but to retaliate. Poor Sudo awakes, shocked that someone has disturbed his beautiful dreams of all you can eat bone buffets and open, endless, soft grass filled dog parks and can only jump up, disoriented and snarl at his attacker. Felix then runs off and prepares his next attack, when Sudo has finally relaxed enough to get back to dreaming.

Felix is impossibly soft. His fur is like an exquisite angora, cashmere sweater or one of those llama rugs people bring back from South America. We all want to bury our faces in his delicious softness but Felix will have none of it. Trying to get him to stay still long enough to snuggle with him is an impossible task. And if we restrain him for a second too long, he will show us how soft his teeth and claws are. How can something be so cozy and yet so pointy at the same time?

But, with all his evil traits, we can’t help but love him. He is a constant source of amusement in this house and he keeps us all on our toes. He’s been with us a little over a year now and the Spaz family really can’t imagine our life without him.