A while back I wrote a post about our newest kitty, the fluffy Mr. Gus Gus, and I think that my other cats were feeling a little left out. At least that’s what I determined from the influx of hair balls on the kitchen floor. So it only seemed fair to spread the love and write each of them a post too.
Let’s start with Lucifer.
Lucifer was a hellion when we first got him, hence his name. People say oh, well of course he turned out to be trouble with a name like that. Here’s the deal though — we waited almost two weeks before picking out a name and that was after he tore up a new leather jacket, ate our houseplants and generally tortured us with his constant desire to be on top of everything.
We picked him up as a stray…well, I should say that I picked him up. My husband (then just my boyfriend) was at work when I got a call from a friend of ours saying that his car had broken down in Beaverton, about 15 minutes away. I offered to come rescue him and we made plans to meet at a little pub within walking distance of where he was stuck.
When I got to the bar, there was this little black-and-white kitty outside who clearly wanted some attention. We’ve already established that I am a bit cat obsessed, so of course I was down on the pavement giving the kitty pets and belly rubs. He, in return, gave me head butts and soft purrs. I was instantly in love, but figured he must belong to someone. He was too friendly to be feral.
When I asked the bartender, he said the cat had been out there for a few days and didn’t seem to have a home. Since the pub is located next to a pet store, he told me people often dump their unwanted pets there assuming the store will take them in. I don’t know who these people are, but they suck.
At any rate, I already had a cat and didn’t think she would be thrilled if I brought another one home. But my friend had a daughter who had been begging for a kitty so he figured he would surprise her with one. We left our info with the bartender, on the off-chance the kitty had a home and a family looking for him, and wrangled him into my car.
Halfway back to Portland, my friend decided he was allergic to the cat, who was now crawling over every inch of the back seat meowing like crazy. I was annoyed at first but somewhat relieved because if we hadn’t taken the kitty with us, this is about the point I would be hit with a wave of regret. Now there was nothing really to do except accept the fact that I owned two cats. I just didn’t know how to break the news to my husband.
Luckily no one can resist this:
However, we quickly discovered a possible reason why he had been abandoned — his sweet face did not match his mischievous maniacal nature. Luckily his feisty disposition came with a seriously affectionate side or he might have been back on the streets (yeah right). But I do love that he has always loved to cuddle and he is still a huge fan of giving nose nuzzles and head butts, which are my kryptonite where kitties are concerned.
His curious nature has kept us entertained just as his playful side has kept us either in hysterics — both good and bad, depending on what kind of havoc he is wrecking. He treated our fish tanks as his personal snacking grounds (RIP poor oscar fish) and, even now, is not above slyly sneaking food off your plate if you turn your back for a split second. He once manged to get into the fridge and pull out a vacuum-packed fillet of salmon — three times. I still have no idea how he manged to open the door, we just kept finding the fish on the kitchen floor, with bite marks in the plastic wrapping.
But for all of his sense of adventure, he is clearly happy to be an indoor kitty with all the perks — tuna water, ear scratches and warm blankets. He has even expressed his gratitude by bringing us home numerous gifts throughout the years, everything from mice and rats (even live ones) to birds, crickets and bats. He also took on the task of defending our various rental properties from other neighborhood cats, which landed us with some outlandish emergency vet bills. Nothing will liven up your lazy Memorial Day weekend like a cat with a scratched cornea.
Now that we’ve moved to an area near busier streets (and since he’s nearing eight years old and considered a feline senior citizen) he stays inside most of the time. Which is nice because this is the only rat he plays with now.
And frankly, I think he is happiest when he’s close by us. Extremely close by us. Like right on top of us, as often as possible. It doesn’t matter what we are doing or trying to accomplish, he is there, wanting attention. And after eight years, I am still unable to resist.