Back in April I posted a little something about Fred’s ceiling shenanigans. Well, now we have… cat shenanigans part 2! It turns out that Willy snores… like a freight train. Funny to say, funny to talk about, not so funny at 2:00 in the morning. We have a little cat tower that’s covered in carpet to give them a place to scratch and a place to sleep. Willy likes to curl up on top of it at night to sleep. He’s always been a heavy breather (might have something to do with his, um, impressive girth) but when he lays in just the right position he snores. The (not so) funny thing is that he can actually wake both Pete and I out of a dead sleep. Waking me up is not that big a feat but Pete sleeps like a log. I have a hard time waking him up but somehow the cat manages to do it. Pete has a handy stash of folded socks within reach of his side of the bed – perfect ammunition to wake Willy without having to leave the cozy comfyness of bed. I, not having such a stash, have to resort to getting out of bed and bopping him on the head with my fingers. It’s terribly satisfying until he goes back to snoring just a few minutes later. Hmm, maybe I should toss Fred at him since she’s always sleeping on our bed.
Speaking of Fred, she’s developed a funny little habit of her own. From the times I was an infant teacher in a daycare center I remember feeling of standing at the counter washing dishes or preparing a bottle and feeling little hands on my legs as one or the other of the kids pulled to standing using my pants as leverage. Well, Fred has started doing pretty much the same thing. I’ll be standing at the kitchen counter cooking dinner and feel two little paws around the level of my knees. It’s Fred, standing on her back legs, looking up at me with plaintive little kitty eyes asking to be picked up. To be honest, she’s kind of hard to resist. The problem, though, is that once I pick her up once and then put her down she pretty much insists on being picked up again. Unlike the babies, though, she has claws with which to insist about this whole picking up business. If I take too long she’ll launch herself at my thigh will all claws out, hoping that she’ll be able to make it to the shoulder she seeks. That part is less cute. She even has this fun trick whereby she latches her claws into my jeans, I pick my leg up parallel with the floor, and in a hop, skip, and a jump she’s on my shoulder.
Our house is actually one cat down these days. Rodney, the cat Pete brought with him when he moved in here, has gone to live with my mother-in-law. He and Willy did well together but he and Fred never got along. The growling and hissing got on Pete’s and my nerves but left Fred largely unperturbed. She thought it was great fun to torment the hell out of him and then take a nap, leaving a trail of jangled nerves in Pete, me, and Rodney. It got to the point where this apartment wasn’t big enough for the five of us. Rodney had previously lived at my in-laws, albeit when Sammy the dog was alive. We knew that he liked the house and hanging out with Tom and Jeanette. So it seemed like a good solution for him to go there. So far so good – and things are decidedly quieter around this house! Fred seems to miss him a bit but I’m fairly certain that he doesn’t miss her one iota!!
