One thing that’s becoming obvious is that the cats are very aptly named. Somehow I manage to do this no matter what happens. That or the cat earns its name early on, as the late, much-missed Bugger managed to do.
Her Royal Highness, Princess Buttercup is very much royalty and the queen of all she surveys. Partly this is her being Siamese, but a lot of it is her being her. She likes to park herself somewhere she’ll be nicely framed by whatever she’s sitting on and look regal.
Midnight is black. And fluffy. And every bit the Basement Kitteh he looks like. He likes to lurk in dark corners and pounce from cover. Unless he’s in a relaxed mood, then he’ll curl up in the bathroom basin and refuse to move. He’s spent all day there, which has driven me to the kitchen to wash my hands after the necessary loo visits.
Of course, he’s also the one who’s convinced that the only proper time to be petted is when I’m on the loo, at which point he’ll usually come running and insist I give him proper ear scritches and his preferred version of tummy rubs (which involves me curling my hand around his body to rub his belly while he leans into my arm – but heaven forbid I attempt to pick him up. That’s very much a No No).
Then there’s the Dread Kitty Westley. Who, yes, got his name because we already have Princess Buttercup. At that point he wasn’t much of a Dread Kitty – we were worried we were going to have the meek, mild Farm Boy. Boy were we wrong… We most definitely got a Dread Kitty. Who has managed to – so far – shred one lightweight blind, break two of the blinds that do the fancy fold up thing when you raise them (Roman shades, I think – they’re fabric with rods attached to the back that are drawn together by rings which are not in any way capable of holding up 10 pounds of kitteh playing kill with the ties), lose the mechanical pencil I use to take notes for work (in the 30 seconds it took me to go to the kitchen and fill up my water bottle and return no less – I’ve been looking for the bloody thing for days and haven’t found it yet), break my cordless mouse, pop the tab key off my work laptop so comprehensively it took me several hours of research plus a couple of hours of work to put the damn thing back together, turn off the work laptop mid-work so many times I had to get myself a stand and install a second keyboard – which has been knocked off the desk several times, although at least he hasn’t shut the thing off since I got it…
You get the idea. Of course, he also likes to lie on the keyboard which results in kitteh typing and bizarre reconfiguring of the computer depending on what shortcuts he’s managed to trigger this time. He is most definitely a Dread Kitty.
All of this comes down to a thinly disguised reason to indulge in some cat photos. After all, if the little imps insist on getting into everything, they’re going to have to live with their antics and images being broadcast to anyone who wants to read about them. And yes, that is my work laptop and its keyboard Westley is in the way of.