life with a new baby
Posts tagged Pets
Meeper
Sep 8th

Nicknames: Predatory Predator, Creepy Meepy, Creeper
The most neurotic of all our cats has to be Meeper.
It must be something about rescue kitties; all of our cats are rescue cats and all of them have their own particular neurosis. If Meeper was human, he would need Valium and a prescription for potent anti-psychotics… which would never be potent enough so he would eventually end up being committed to a MENTAL HOSPITAL, doped up on Thorazine and Ambien.
I don’t mean he’s a crazy crazy. He would never hurt anyone. He would never bite or scratch, not even if his life depended on it. Meeper is a sweet, affectionate cat who loves attention… until you cough, sneeze, or just BREATHE TOO LOUD. Then he scampers off to the nearest dark corner, pulse racing, staring at you with large, glowing, untrusting eyes.
His bad habit of lurking in the shadows earned him the nickname Creepy Meepy. He’s so afraid of everything that he creeps around, skittering quietly from one dark recess to another, scared to death of seeing his own shadow. The poor thing even meows oddly… it’s this weird, halting sound that sounds identical to Predator… just like in the movie Predator. Other times, his meow is a barely audible meep.
Sometimes when I’m playing with Meeper, he’ll randomly become frightened from the sound of my stomach digesting my food or my TOENAILS GROWING and will take off running, tail tucked, ears flat, eyes wide and bulging… only when this cat gets scared, he runs at you rather than away from you. There have been many times he’s become tangled between my legs, nearly causing my demise.
If he were human, I am certain he would also be diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Once, after he used the litter box, I counted him scratching at the sides 37 times.
37.
Only in my world does a cat scratch at the walls of the litter box 37 times after using it.
I love that cat, though. He wouldn’t be Meeper with out all his neurosis… and that’s what makes him the perfect addition to our family of fur babies.
Turbo
Sep 1st

Turbo
Nicknames: Turbo the Terrible, Turbinator, Turbometer
Our 30 pound Maine Coon kitty is a big ball of… well… fur.
My husband got Turbo a few years ago from a rescue center for Maine Coons. Turbo had been abused, so it took years to get the poor guy accustomed to a happy, domestic life. He’s all in all a pretty good cat. His biggest downfall, however, must be that he doesn’t groom himself.
Perhaps it’s the insanely long fur.
Perhaps it’s because of his girth.
Or, perhaps, he’s just lazy and doesn’t give a damn.
I lean toward the latter. He’s very independent and aloof, and he has his own idea on what he should do. He’s comparable to having a teenager. We have to brush him every day or his fur becomes matted and tangled. When that happens, Paul has to cut the out the mats. Turbo does extraordinarily well when that happens and just lays there, sometimes meowing somberly in protest, eyes wide and ears back, but never biting or scratching.
Same with baths.
He lets us know he doesn’t like it, but the big guy tolerates them. We tell him if he doesn’t want us to groom him, he needs to groom himself… but he never listens. Maybe he secretly likes when we do the grooming, who knows?
He also likes to play in water, which is a habit we have worked hard to finally break. I got tired of constantly cleaning paw prints off the floor.
You can normally find Turbo on the back of the couch, lounging lazily under the weak heat of the table lamp, sometimes twitching with relaxation as he dozes. When it’s time to eat, he usually waits until the other cats have had their fill before sauntering casually to the food bowl, plopping down, and enjoying his meal in peace without the other cats nudging their way in.
Turbo is one of the smartest cats I have ever known and pretty cool to be around, even for a cat.
Even when he insists on being King of the House by SITTING ON THE OTHER CATS when they steal his seats.
Andrew
Aug 29th

Andrew's standard position
Nicknames: Landru (after a machine character on Star Trek), Banana
Andrew is… Andrew.
Unique.
I have never known another cat like him. I swear he thinks he’s a human. He sits like human, meows and carries on conversations as if he was human. He even GRUNTS. Like a fat, content human.
He is a kind soul who loves to be the center of attention and loves to be petted. I bought Andrew, along with his litter mate Kayli, from an adoption center when he was 3 months old. He is a flabby tabby who walks with a pronounced waddle with fur as soft as velvet. He has a tail like a feather duster, eyes with human emotions pouring out from them, and a large-capacity voice box.
When he’s “talking” to me, his voice changes pitch as if he thinks he’s actually speaking English to me. It’s hard for him to hold his head still when focusing on something; it invariably wobbles from side-to-side.
He’s not exactly the brightest star in the sky. If I tell him “No,” he’ll look at me for a few seconds, head slightly tilted as if to ask, “but why not?” Then he’ll get distracted and completely forget that he wasn’t supposed to be doing whatever it was that he was doing. You can’t help but love him for it. Everyone loves Andrew.
He doesn’t bother with Nathan much. He’ll occasionally come around, sniff Nathan’s foot inquisitively… ask him a couple questions then walk off. But, if Paul and I dare to be caught showing affection to each other and not Andrew, he’ll march in, sit down, and meow plaintively until we say “No, Andrew!” He’ll usually grunt with dissatisfaction but forgets all about it as soon as something else piques his interest.
Like SPINNING AROUND IN CIRCLES.
He is quite the character.


















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