The Dreaded Vacuum

Despite Ferris being a neat-nick (and I mean he won't sleep on the bed unless it's made neat-nick and an over-obsessive fur licker) he has little to do with keeping the house clean. In fact, he's mostly the prime contributor to its uncleanliness. Blankets of shed fur, multiple piles of yack, turds that seem to sneak out at inopportune moments, kitty litter sand trailed throughout the house, whiskers and pieces of claw are all a part of what Ferris likes to give us as little mementos of his existence.

He's often curious about the webster, the swiffer and the broom but one thing that he wants nothing to do with and is absolutely terrified of is the vacuum. And this is where we usually find him when we bring it out:

That's right, the "bad ass" who would challenge pit bulls, front at other cats and growl at the "blanket monster" is afraid of the vacuum. Hey, if I could hide from it, I would, too.

Rough Week

Ferris had a rough week this week. Not only did he a) be his usual clumsy self in the middle of his crack-piping and ran head first into something (what, we haven't figured out still) and bruised his nose and cheek, b) get vaccines at the vet (of whom I forgot to pay because of Ferris' usual trauma, thinking about the trip, and the chaos that usually ensues in a vet's office), c) get used to a new water bowl (got rid of the painted one and got the self-watering water bowl), d) have us abandon him this week and e) not be let outside as he's protesting here.

Though, we suspect he was happy about "d". Our neighbors came by and lavished such attention on him while we were gone. He's so spoiled!

Mine, mine, all mine!

Ferris the typical male cat. Don't let him fool you with his cute behavior - that pining and rubbing on you isn't because he loves you, or is sharing any type of affection for you, oh no, my friends. He is marking you. You are his. Ferris has now placed his tag on you that defines you as his property. You are a thing. A possession to amuse him upon his whimsy - nothing more.

When he wants something, as with any cat, they'll mew, purr, languidly sprawl before you to get your attention. And, when that doesn't work, Ferris will start fiercely rubbing his cheeks, body, head, whatever, on whatever's closest to him. Not in a manner to exhibit calm loving behavior, but in a possessive way as if to say, "Look servant, I have marked this coffee table- it has MY smell on it. It is mine. Not yours. Get your feet off this coffee table AND GET ME MY FOOD."

So, while we are onto his wiley ways, imagine our complete amusement when he demonstrated his ownership of the fire pit outside.

Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go

In the past year or so, Ferris has been my alarm clock.  Because he usually likes to eat around 5:45am he'll wake me up by 6 am, follow me into the bathroom while I get ready in the morning before I realize all his affection isn't because he loves me and appreciates me, but because he's FUCKING HUNGRY.

Ferris has, in his older years, become a bit more cantankerous, ohnery, vomitty, sharp and pointy, and needy.  He likes to be held a certain way when he's ready to sleep and will not settle for any other way until he's just about ready to doze off, it gets too hot and he stretches out away from me. He knows better than to cuddle up with Daddy because any errant lick and loud purr will earn him the boot. Ferris knows his mom will always hold him.

So, now - he's going to turning 10 in April.  He yacks just about every day, still wakes me up every morning but this time - it's not your average "meow, bitch, feed me before I lick your face off". He starts this strange chattering and shortened version of a meow like some lazy slang and it sounds like, "meh!". And this usually begins around 4:45, sometimes 3:30 in the morning.

I hestitate to give Ferris any food while we are still trying to sleep. Because Ferris overeats or is trying to swallow that mouse-sized hairball due to his OCD over-grooming self-image issues he usually yacks a significant amount of food immediately after gorging himself. And usually, if we're still in bed, and he's not cuddled up with me, he's on the windowsill overseeing his vast kingdom. So, when he eventually does yack, it's over our heads.

And we don't want a repeat of Most Disgusting Thing To Wake Up To from 2004 - a gelatinous ball of projectile-vomitted, half-digested slime of yack dripping down the headboard, nearly right on Vin's head. So when Ferris begins his crying for food it's a bit like y'all with small children who do their best not to enable their screaming kids as they cry for your embrace while they try to make themselves go to sleep at night.

It becomes a battle of wills - Ferris' wailing and shortened "meh's" to my sleep-deprived and fuzzy, frazzled nerves. Sometimes, instead of giving him food, I'll march him out to his waterbowl and fill it with nice, cold, fresh water and sometimes that shuts him up. Or, I'll just grab him up and pet him hard enough and tuck him under my arm firmly enough ala Tiny Toon's "I'll hug him, and squeeze him and love him and keep him for my very own" until he purrs and we both go to sleep.

So for all you people who scoff at those of us with furry, four-legged children be advised - you're dealing with  sleep-deprived, crazy cat people who have been raising an 18 month old for the LAST TEN YEARS.

Ferris has his very own grass...