May 24, 2004

• This blog is about my cat.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Furboy is an extraordinary
  cat, and by that I mean overweight. He weighs in at about 18 pounds,
  half of that his white plume of fur. His tail is that of a raccoon's
  and his personality of a dog. And his brains.
  
  
  
  He absolutely refuses to hold
  himself up when you pet him, and even if you're legs are open and
  you're sitting in a chair, he still flops over and promptly onto the
  floor. Then he looks at you as if it were your responsibility to catch
  him.
  
  
  
  He has "bedroom eyes" and when
  these are employed, you have no choice but to go to him and pet him
  while talking to him with your teeth clenched utter things like: "Oh,
  you're so cute! Oh yes you are, oh yes you are" while your voice gets
  progressively higher in pitch.
  
  
  
  His idea of a subtle hint is rubbing his head on the sharp corner of the desk at which you are sitting and meowing. a LOT.
  
  
  
  He's a bedhog, and no matter which position it is you are sleeping in, he makes it absolutely impossible to move your legs.
  
  
  
  Anything you own is instantly covered in fur the moment you pick him up, and yet you pick him up.
  
  
  
  Still, for all that, I'm
  convinced he's the best cat in the world. I've never heard him hiss,
  but when faced with an enemy, he'll go up and lick it. His purr is
  carely audible, but you can feel it when he does.
  
  
  
  In short, Furboy P. Barnsworth, I think you're simply grand.
  
  
  
  

  • 5:12 pm
  • 2 Comments