Inkblot has always been a little standoffish, from the moment we picked her to thirteen years later. The older she gets, the more loving she gets – or she’s simply going senile.
When I was a kitten my world was different. I had no warm pillows. The food was less than satisfactory. As I get older the memories get more blurry around the edges. This is a good thing, I suppose, except that it makes me softer and that makes the humans think I like them.
It was approximately 6 months into my life that two humans wandered into the veterinarian’s office where I was being held against my will. A “no kill” organization had caught me, paid to clean me up, and put me on display.
Silly me. I thought the tall, lanky male human with the much shorter female human would be a better choice than the super short, screechy one who was begging her “Mommy” to “adopt” me. So I reached through the bars of my cage, I grabbed that male’s finger, and I held on until they agreed to take me away from the little screechy one.
Little did I know my life of being constantly touched, hugged, and kissed was only just beginning.
At least I’ve never been dressed up and forced to join a tea party. Knowing the female, it’s probably just a matter of time. She did get a red “Santa” hat on me once. She never tried that again.
It took seven years before I willingly climbed into the female’s lap for the first time. It surprised me as much as it did her. Now, she calls me her “buddy”. She loves to stroke my fur – if I were to be completely honest I would have to say that I enjoy it, too. I’ll also point out that I have a beautiful coat. It is shiny. It is healthy. And it is as soft as a cotton ball. I can’t blame her for wanting to touch me all the time. I would touch my fur all the time, too, but I’m wearing it, so I do.
Please don’t tell her I like being stroked. I work hard to keep my purr at its lowest setting so she is none the wiser. I also have to bathe every time I am touched. Some days I feel like I bathe constantly.
The whole point of this was to tell you how to keep your humans on the leash, so to speak. Scratching and biting is bad. They return you to the “Pound” or “Rescue” or wherever you came from when you do that. Sometimes, if they really want to keep you, they’ll take you to the vet in the bag of doom to try and see if there’s something making you bite and scratch. Avoid the vet at all costs.
My method involves a detached aloofness. When my humans are in the “bath-room” I follow them. When they have crossed the threshold of insanity and “shower” I sit on the mat. This is to make sure they do not slip, fall, or start foaming at the mouth. Anything that willingly gets into a stream of water must be absolutely, rabidly mad. When my humans are sitting on my couch I will sit on the opposite end. I will also, on occasion, deign to enter into inane conversation with them. It goes like this –
Me: “Feed me puny minded human.”
Human Female: “What’s up, Inky?”
Me: “Are you deaf? I said ‘Feed Me!'”
Human Female: “Inkblot, you are the most beautiful kitty on the planet.”
Me: “Well, yes, obviously, but what does that have to do with feeding me?”
Human Female: “Do you want me to pet you?”
Me: (Sigh. They are dumb as bricks, but they feed me high quality, good food that keeps my coat shiny, so it’s a trade off.)
Finally, at night, I sleep on their feet. I think you should wait until they are already in bed and have finished reading. Perfect timing involves the light having been extinguished and the sound of their breathing starts to slow. Then you climb the kitty stairs they installed so you could get on the bed and when you reach the top, you hop onto the bed. Preferably right onto their feet if you can manage it. I leave it up to you to pick where, exactly, you settle down, but no matter how much they wiggle, don’t let that discourage you from picking the perfect spot. They’ll eventually come to realize that you, the cat, are the master.
Also, whatever you do, do not debase yourself and bite at things that move under the covers. I am mostly sure it is the humans amusing themselves. I’ve seen my younger sister do it a million times, she even pounces! The whole time this is happening the humans are sitting there giggling like they’ve gone insane.
Oh. That’s right. They went a long time ago.