Salmon!

Gus loves his Fancy Feast Savory Salmon.  He spends the better part of his day (when he is not making himself comfortable in my lap) begging for salmon.

While he’s a very sweet kitty and I want him to be healthy and happy, he eats 2 cans per day, about ¼ of a can at a time.  That figures up to 8 feedings per day.

Reminder: Gus is a cat, not a newborn baby.

It’s starting to get out of control.

Here are a few examples of his ridiculous behavior:

I’m hungry.

Will you please feed me instead of taking my picture?

That’s enough pictures, lady.

Now feed me some salmon.

Oh hi.

SSSSSSSSAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalllmooooooooooooooooonn?

I’m going to sit on your notes and stare you down until you are forced to pay attention to me and feed me salmon.   I’m confident this strategy will work.

I’ll sprinkle in a few meows to disrupt your concentration as well.

Hello, did you hear me?

S-A-L-M-O-N.

Fine then.   If you’re going to ignore me, I will drink your iced coffee.

AAAAALck.   Never mind.  That stuff’s turrr-bul.

I’m so glad you enjoyed your dinner (and neglected to serve me some even though I very politely sat in a chair).

Now where’s my salmon?

Maybe if I sit at the counter you will put it together that I am hungry and I would like some salmon.

Man, what’s a cat gotta do for some grub around here?

These humans are useless.

SALMON!

Y’all come back now, ya hear?

Sugarlump

Scarlett

This is my cat Scarlett.

She’s a piece of work.

She is a tad smarter than my cat Gus and knows when she is being bad but goes on doing whatever she pleases anyway. What a punk.

She is nosy on a clinical level, which leads me to believe she is half raccoon.  She would prefer to spend her days making bird noises (strange, given she’s a CAT), rummaging through small waste baskets (thus leaving a crime scene on the floor) and dragging food scraps out of a sink of dirty dishes.  So far, my attempts to discipline her have been unsuccessful.  If her behavior gets any worse, I am threatening to send her to a feline correctional facility.  Here’s how she feels about that (note: photo taken after an altercation with the vacuum hose, her nemesis):

Here’s a mug shot from her previous offenses:

When I catch her in the act, she runs and hides, though she could use a lesson on being stealthy.

She also insists on sitting on/getting in any item you place on the floor (even if it’s a scrap of paper and especially if it is a box/bag/large purse).

Even though she’s a little rascal, I keep her around because she provides excellent tech support.

And, sometimes she just kills me with that little puddin’ face.

She wouldn’t want me to give you the impression that she’s really a big softie at heart so here is a much more regal shot from her linkedin profile:

She’s a mess but I love her.

Y’all come back now, ya hear?

Sugarlump

P.S.  Most of these photos were taken before I got my new camera so I apologize if they look as if they were taken underwater.  I assure you that they were not because Scarlett HATES baths/anything to do with a large quantity of water.

Gus

This is my cat Gus.

He is not normal.

I think the root of the problem is that he missed the memo that he is a cat.

He behaves like a puppy/small infant/possum.

He leads a life of leisure (understatement).

When he is hungry (which is every 20 minutes) he will chase you around, meowing pitifully in several different keys until you feed him savory salmon morsels.  If you happen to be seated, he will either sit in the floor in front of you and burn a hole through your laptop/reading material with his stare (pictured below) OR circle you like a shark, walking up the arm of the chair, around the back and down the other side and round and round again, all the time purring on maximum volume, until it is impossible for you to concentrate on whatever you were doing that is obviously less important than his savory salmon morsels.

After he has had a few courses of salmon, he then calms down and comes and sits/naps in my lap, looking so cute and snuggling into my arm that I am reduced to using one arm at the risk of disturbing him.  My productivity then declines. But, if I disturb him by trying to use two arms, we start the pitiful begging bit all over again and my productivity declines then also. I just can’t win. So this is how I spend my day:

Some days, when my lap just won’t cooperate, he opts to sprawl out on my desk for his nap:

I put up with his nonsense because he is the sweetest kitty and I almost lost him about a year ago.

He went into renal failure and was given a pretty grim prognosis after several days at the animal hospital.  We were told it might be a few days or a few weeks, but probably not much longer than that. We brought little Gusser home and he ate like he had been starved for months.  He gradually gained his strength back over the next couple of weeks and one year later he is a lively (and demanding) young fellow.  My little miracle cat (who may never realize he is a cat, but that’s fine with me):

When Gus was at the animal hospital, we brought him a few things from home so he would have something familiar.  We brought him his “camper” (a cat bed with a hood) to sleep in and “the mommy,” which is a cable-knit blanket with which he has developed a very special/peculiar bond.  The instant you put up your feet up on the ottoman and drape this blanket over your legs, Gus is right there, making himself comfortable on “the mommy” covering your outstretched legs.

Here he is in the “camper” on a kitchen barstool, his preferred spot when there is activity in the kitchen:

Here he is on the “mommy” on my mom(my):

What a little dumpling.

And here he is swaddled in “the mommy”:

And that is an introduction to my spoilt cat/dog/infant/possum named Gus.

More to come as his behavior reaches new levels of absurdity.

Y’all come back now, ya hear?

Sugarlump