The Little Criminals, Part I
I share my tiny apartment with an oftimes-fabulous partner & two little tyrants. They have proper names, but just as often are referred to by various nicknames, including the ever-popular @#$% Cat! or gato juevon if they’re really getting on my nerves.
Lately I’ve taken to calling them the little criminals, as their two-cat Mafia has taken over the way our home, our daily schedules, and even our sleep patterns are run. I joke about it, but they truly do run my life, and I’ve lived with them long enough that I no longer struggle against the bondage.
Feeding & Watering:
It no longer seems strange to me that on waking, I pad blearily to the washroom, turn the cold water tap on so it’s at the perfect trickle level, and wait. I’ve been known to lean on the doorframe,eyes half-closed with pillow memories, waiting for the small one to make the jump from ground to counter. She doesn’t always make it, in which case she complains loudly, probably that we’ve raised the counter height or something, and waits impatiently for me to pick her up. The large one is better at the jumping and maneuvering (particularly on or into things he’s not supposed to, like the top of the fridge or the inside of the dryer) but he too has plenty to say.
Especially when he doesn’t think he’s been fed enough, which is always.
Feeding is almost always accompanied by head-bonking (his & hers) and fanging (his). For those of you without cats of your own, these are signs of affection, especially the fanging, a toothy swipe against hand or the ticklish part of foot that basically tells other animals “watch it, this one’s mine”.
Not for the ticklish.