A lot has changed in our family since I started this blog. In the beginning, we had four pets: Selby, Emerson, Lord Dormir, and Sir Oliver. Of those four, only Sir Oliver remains. He’s a quiet old man with a classic case of resting bitch face, but he’s sweet and he loves our teenaged daughter more than anything else in the world.
You’ve met Wordsworth, of course. He’s still a handsome guy who loves to explore and also loves to lounge around with people.
In August of 2015, we were joined by Count Rugen “Cuddles” com Bigglesworth IV (a/k/a “The Count”, or “Count”, or sometimes “CAAAAAAAT”, followed closely by “GETBACKINTHEHOUSE” or “GETOFFOFTHECOUNTER!”). He was raised with a puppy so he mostly tends to prefer the company of the dogs and enjoys chasing Sir Oliver around the house.
In January 2016, we met Butler. How he came to join our family is too good of a story to sum up in one sentence, so I’ll have to make that a separate post. This goofy boy loves coming to work with me at the groomer, just like Emerson did.
[Today’s talking cat story is a guest post written by my son. The events below transpired last night after we had all gone to bed. If you like it, be sure to comment and let him know! — Kari]
Sir Oliver: I desire petting. *walks into Son’s room* Oh. My servant is asleep. I shall wake him. *begins prodding son’s face*
Son: Zzzzzzzxxxnnxx *wakes up* Huh?
Sir Oliver: Oh, good, you are awake. I require a massage.
Son: Dude! It’s 11pm.
Sir Oliver: Time is a social construct invented by humans to avoid their responsibilities towards their feline overlords.
Son: Whatever. I’m going back to sleep.
Sir Oliver: This is outrageous. I will be filing a complaint with the Feline Overlords Union.
Son: Good luck with that. Zzzzzzzz.
Sir Oliver: Hmph. Just for that, I am going to leave a hairball right here where you will step in it when you wake up.
Last week we said goodbye to Lord Dormir. This guy:
I first met Lord Dormir in 2004 when I was a volunteer at our local humane society. His name at that time was Sugar, because his first family thought he was a girl.* He weighed almost 14 pounds. He was friendly, beautiful, fully declawed, already neutered and one of the sweetest cats I have ever met. I loved him instantly. He loved people of all ages, cats, AND dogs.
He used to sleep in the dog beds, and though our dogs are ten times his size they never pushed him out. One day I went to put Selby in her kennel and found Lord Dormir curled up in there having a nap.
He had a bad case of feline OCD. He would groom anyone and anything -cats, dogs, people, furniture… but sweaters were his favorite. He could not resist licking a sweater, no matter how many times his tongue got stuck to it like that kid Flick in A Christmas Story.* (Which was EVERY TIME) He groomed himself and our other cat so well that he had a serious hairball problem. I’m sure he just considered this a necessary sacrifice in the name of beauty.
He really did not know how to take no for an answer; it was his firm belief that everyone in the world wanted to cuddle with him just as much as he wanted to cuddle with them. He could hear a butt land on the couch from anywhere in the house, and would instantly materialize to sit in that person’s lap. And then he would slowly make his way up from the lap onto the chest.
He liked to curl up on my shoulder when I was laying in bed reading or playing games on my phone (which was often). Or, sometimes, right on my face:
My friend Eric once described him as “the purringest kitty ever”. This was an extremely accurate description. If he was awake and a human was around, Lord Dormir was purring. He even purred while eating.
He liked to sneak out of the house and chase butterflies in the yard. He did NOT like to go outside on a leash & harness.
He once caught a mouse in my bedroom. And then let it go. And then caught it again. And then let it go. Witnessing this, I fully understood the meaning of the phrase “playing cat and mouse”.
He liked to steal the dog’s food when they weren’t looking. Sometimes he would even steal it out from under their noses while they were still eating it. He also liked to sneak up in the counter and lick our dishes clean. Recently he even got so bold that he tried to eat our food right off our plates while we were still eating.
He wasn’t perfect, but he was perfectly ours. I miss him.
* In fact, nearly everyone who met him for the first time said “What a beautiful cat! What’s her name?” But it made no difference to him whether you thought he was a boy, a girl, or a genderless alien. His mission in life was to love and be loved by everyone.
Me: *goes into bathroom and closes door*
Sir Oliver: This door is closed. That is unacceptable.