Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Meet the Furballs

Really, it was only a matter of time before I blogged about my cats, right?
Besides, dinner tonight is leftovers of the pasta sauce I made last night, so I don't have anything food-wise to impart to you.
So... cats.

If you don't know me, I have two cats. Keats, who is a very smart girl who can solve complex problems, squeaks rather than meows (unless she has found a sock, at which point she yowls with it in her mouth), and was a rescue so took a solid year before she trusted me enough to sit on my lap.
Keats, Intent.

Keats, Adorable.

The other one is Byron, and he is very fluffy, looks very regal, loves to curl up with his head in your cleavage, and unfortunately follows that stereotype of beautiful but dumb. And I'm not being mean. He really is just dumb. Like can't-get-out-of-a-push-to-open-closet-door dumb. Instead he just cries until someone lets him out.
(As a comparison, Keats once stared at Mike's closed dresser, jumped on top of it, pushed the door open with her paw, and then jumped down again so she could leap directly into the drawer. Problem: solved.)
But we love him. We just feel badly for Keats sometimes that he's all she has for company.
Byron looking fluffy and majestic.

Byron sleeping upside-down on Mike.
Not. Smart.

So today's Not Smart moment is about Byron learning that Plastic Bags Are Not Toys.  
He stuck his head into a plastic delivery bag, and of course stuck his head through the handle... and panicked. Before I could get to him to remove the bag, he took off like a shot up and down the hall, where it worked its way down his body to his hind legs. Keats started chasing him because he was in such a panic. The noise of the bag, however, scared him so badly I have never seen him run so fast in my life. When I finally cornered him and removed the bag, he slunk in slow motion to the doorway, and spent the next TWO HOURS doing the hunt-crouch all around the apartment. He seemed convinced that the Big Bad Bag was hiding somewhere, just waiting to pounce on him. He didn't even try to sleep on me that night. It wasn't until the next day that he was back to normal.
I can only hope he has actually learned not to stick his head in bags anymore.


Jennifer said...

This is the best thing in a long list of things I've read today.

Not that I don't feel bad for Byron, but sometimes it's possible to pity a very daft cat while still secretly laughing at him.

Sort of like when the less logically-gifted of our two cats misjudges the turn into the hallway and wraps herself around the door jam. It's funny because she's not hurt and also kind of dumb.

I bet you can now use plastic bags to scare him away from the places he's not supposed to go but always does.

RocknRollGourmet said...

Opinion left by my friend Jim:

Jim: "The other one is Byron, and he is very fluffy, looks very regal, loves to curl up with his head in your cleavage"

Sounds smart enough to me.

Point taken.

Amanda said...

Hilarious. How anyone can dislike cats I'll never know.

throwing out the carnage said...

my cat does the same - jumping into any open bag. sometimes, I think a cat canopy would be his paradise. I made one with two chairs and a beach towel. Milo's Paradise.