. . . Motherless Bastard Part Two

To put a point on it, Calvin has more quirks than I've dealt with in the past. He had no momma and never was able to suckle so he quickly decided I was his momma and would lay his tiny, kitty body across my arms and suck on my thumb joint. I'm certain it wasn't satisfying.

"Poor little motherless bastard," I would say each day.

I had just been laid off and was home much more than normal at the time. Confession: I believe I spent March, April, May, and maybe more in a stupor; watching way too many movies and not thinking at all. At all.

So Calvin got to sleep on my lap while I was on the couch for those months during his kittyhood. His little paws always having to touch a part of my bare skin.

So now he thinks he owns me. I can't shut a door without him trying to open it. If I'm in a room, I turn around and Calvin is in that room. I can't have a conversation with Pup in the office without Calvin going behind my computer to chew on wires (a squirt bottle has helped stop this crap). If I leave for a day or two he is UPSET when I return.

"Poor little motherless bastard," I say on a daily basis.

He sleeps by my head at night, one paw always touching my shoulder. I'm convinced he really does believe he owns me. If Cesar Milan ever were to help me with my animals he would shake his enormous head and cluck his tongue, knowing there was no hope for my lack of pack-leader skills.
He is a chewer. I had NO IDEA cats could be chewers. I thought only large Astro-looking dogs were chewers (remind me to tell you about when George ate a small couch).

But a cat? Wires wires! One day I know I'll come home to find Calvin looking like the cat from Chevy Chase's Christmas Vacation.

Get this, I wear camisoles to bed often. The ones with the skinny straps? One morning I woke to find Calvin chewing the strap off of my cami. Seriously. I cut the strap off of it and threw the rest away. He carries that strap around occasionally. Weirdness!

He waits every morning for Pup and I to clean our ears. Patiently waiting for his Q-tip. (Pup just made me add that Calvin get his own Q-tip, not our used ones.) He promptly trots off with them, either ruckasing with it or dipping it in water and tossing it into his food dish. What the hell!?

When I was gone over the weekend Calvin slipped out the door unbeknownst to Pup. Pup didn't notice until the following morning.

He searched through the house for Calvin's favorite places. Shaking his treat bag, calling for him. Nothing.

For some reason Pup decided to check outside. He is walking around the snowy yard calling for him. He spots a forlorn furball under some stored deck furniture on our porch.

He had spent the night outside.
"Poor little motherless bastard," Pup thought.