Likes: mom, string, squirrels, my bear, shopping bags, fake mice, shredding paper, playing
Pet-Peeves: Oreo, and when mom touches the white spot on my belly without permission
Favorite Toy: fake mice, paws down
Favorite Nap Spot: with my bear in my chair, or on mom
Favorite Food: anything canned. or crunchy. i love to eat. period.
Skills: I fetch, and I only needed one lesson. I also breakdance quite well, even on carpet. Cat of the Day 3/19/07!
Arrival Story: I was a very friendly feral kitty who wanted a home, so I tried to adopt one. The family I chose didn't want me, but it was January in Indiana and very cold, so they asked my now mom if she would take me, since she had just lost ^Simba^, her old orange kitty the year before. She was thrilled to have me, and I was so happy in my new home that I slept on mom's legs the first night. Then, five days later, I went into heat and ran away for four days in the dead of winter. Mom was so worried, but one night when she was coming in from work, she decided to call out my name, which I'd only had for a few days, just to see if maybe I would reply. I replied to her calls for ten minutes while she tried to find me in the dark. When she found me, I was 15 feet up in a tree, so she had to get on a ladder with a bag of food to coach me down. She would have never found me had it not been for Midnight, my favorite Blackie, who came along and simply directed her to me with her bright green eyes as I mewed from up in that tree. She says that getting me back was the best birthday present ever. I'm very happy in my home with my family, even the other cats. I have doubled in size, even though I was supposedly fullgrown when I was adopted (no worms!), and have become very affectionate and sweet. And I know how cute I am.
Bio: I prefer people to cats, but Cookie's cool. The first month I was here, I would growl at Cookie and Oreo whenever I saw them, and hang close to my human mom. I gradually warmed up to the other cats, though Oreo and I still love to punk on each other. We get along, but we also choose not to get along all the time. See, I have these feral tendencies, and since it's not fair to mess with The Ol' Dirty Cookman due to his age and seniority, I naturally have to take out some aggression on Ms. Oreo. Not that she can't defend herself. She hisses and barks at me, and she does this thing where she stands on two feet and swats at me in a windmill-type motion. It's REALLY intimidating. She's small, but she seems big (and penguin-like) when she's on 2 feet and barking at me, believe me. So yeah, I'm kind of a punk, but just to Oreo, and so is she.
I had been suspiciously good lately about not charging the front door every time it opens. Latley I've just been casually approaching it and greeting everyone who comes to it. Mom even had a sales lady over the other night, and she had the door open for 20 minutes while they were chatting, and I stood back the whole time, showing off my belly to the sales lady, not even going near the door. hehehe--strategy. Mom won't let me be an outdoor kitty. Something about how she doesn't trust people to not hit me with their cars, or dogs to not attack me, and something about how I was so 'bad' with my claws that she had to have them removed to spare the Cookman, the furniture, and her hands. Whatev. So last night she was in and out for a minute, shaking out the mat she keeps under my litterbox. I thought it was the perfect opprtunity to make a break for it. Little did I realize how hard that would be in a second-floor walk-up. She thought she had shut the door, but I poked my paw out and got it open . . . and I was off . . . until I got halfway down the stairs and she caught up with me. She grabbed me really tight and carried me back in. I was not anticipating those stairs. I was totally up for a barefoot nightime chase (good thing mom just got a tetanus shot, in case I ever do it again when she's barefoot), but she thought that was a stupid idea. I guess I scared her because when she picked me up, her heart was practically beating out of her chest. She said I was a bad, bad bunny. I didn't get any treats for 3 whole hours after that, and I had to be extra cute to get them. Just because the last time I got out she found me 4 days later stuck in a tree doesn't mean that I don't know what I'm doing. I just like to keep her on her (bare) toes. I'm not a bad bunny, nor am I a chubby bunny. I'm a FLUFFY orange KITTY-CAT, I don't care what she says. Back to hiding my fake mice so they unexpectedly clog up the vacuum cleaner. I like it when mom cleans. I like to keep it interesting, anyway.
So I moved to Bloomington. Mom kept threatening me with the idea, then last Thursday she finally packed me up in the car and we went. An hour and a half later we were there. She started moving a week earlier, but she was afraid I might try to get out while she has schlepping her stuff in and out. I've actually been really good since I got here. We're not on the ground floor, so I look out the door and just see forever. I was not happy my first 2 days here, but she built us a bed the first night and I was able to get comfy. She has this big, scary fan blowing, which I didn't go near the first few days, so I stayed in the bedroom and the kitchen. I also didn't use my litterbox the first 2 days here because she got this crazy idea that she could put it somewhere inconspicuous, like under the sink. Hahahahaha. I do not need or want privacy. I want my litterbox where everyone can see it and anything can fall in it. I always get what I want, too. Good thing Oreo's not here, or everything would have already 'fallen' in it. I'm able to get on top of the kitchen cabinets, my new favorite nap spot. I feel like a badass, like a real cat, when I'm up there. I keep telling mom that I'm a CAT, and I'm FLUFFY, but she insists that I'm still a chubby bunny. Whatever.
Each player starts with seven random facts about themselves. Cats who are tagged need to write on their own diary about the seven things and the rules. You need to choose seven cats to tag and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment that they have been tagged and to read your diary.
My Seven Facts
1) I came out of the clear blue sky. Nobody knows how I got here or ended up next-door, but I did, somewhere between 8 months and 2 years old. I was a stray, but nobody had ever seen any manx or orangie strays, and we have a feral colony, so we know all the strays around here. I was nobody's cat, though, because I had 2 kinds of worms and was too old to not be fixed had I been someone's kitty.
2) I am 'special.' I was like a reverse feral when I was adopted. I hated cats and loved people. I would growl and hiss at Cookie and Oreo the first 6 weeks I was here.
3) I am possibly inbred. I am an orangie girl, which means that both my parents were orange. I certainly look like a purebred manx, so chances are that both my parents are manxes too. What are the odds that 2 orange manxes aren't related? I don't want to know.
4) I like to bite the tails off my fake mice so they look like me. That way, we know which are Oreo's and which are mine.
5) The ferals laugh at me. Midnight is my buddy, but the rest think I'm just funny. Every now and again I get my way and join them in the yard, where they point at me and giggle. They knew I wasn't really one of them from the getgo, and they think my bootie is hilarious.
6) Even though I'm the newest member of my household, I take over any spot I want, no matter how inappropriate. Like Cookie's box, for example. I steal it from him all the time. I also took over Kiki's bed for Cookie. I take over grandma's bed too, which is sort of Oreo's space, but I always stay at the foot of the bed at least. She won't walk on the green blanket for some reason, so I know that's the safe zone.
7) I am afraid of Oreo. Not really, but I know that if she really wanted to lay the smackdown on me, she could with that windmill thing she does. Don't anyone ever tell her I said that. She knows how intimidating she can be, but I know how tough I can think I am.