Pooky

If there is one name in our house that strikes both adoration and loathing at the same time, it’s going to be “Pooky”. Pooky is a killing machine and a hopelessly needful animal at the same time. He is close to what I consider to be the perfect weapon in the feline universe; loved by all, yet the destroyer of sanity. Perhaps a little background will help.

(Also please note the photo here - I was ready to get up, Pooky was just getting comfortable. And also notice the disdain of Socks...)

Pooky, along with his two sisters, were rescued (more or less) from a house in our neighborhood who was doing a less than stellar job at taking care of their cats. The mother and father were practically wild, and the kittens lived in a box on the front porch, infested with fleas and filth. After the owners moved out, we took these orphans in, and they were pitiful. Pooky was hideously small, a melon of a head stuck on his scrawny and undernourished body. Feedings had to be done with milk formula initially because we didn’t want the mother cat in the house. Eventually they moved to solid food, though it took Pooky some time. Feedings were...well, nasty. Michelle would put milk and wet cat food mushed up on a plate, set on the floor. The kittens would devour the food, but Pooky, not content merely to eat, had to actually settle himself in the food. Every meal was followed by a bath. Disgusting to say the least.

This carried on for several months and we were beginning to think that he would stay a runt. But no. He ate, and ate, and ate, and ate. Soon he passed up his sisters in size and despite his only being 8 months old, he is approaching the size of the other adult cats in the house. Feeding time is still a treat, as he usually butts the other cats out of the way for the first available bowl, and has shown no fear while we are eating dinner ourselves. You see, the other cats generally avoid the dinner table and kitchen while we’re eating dinner. They know their place. Yes, if something is left out they will investigate but 9 times out of 10, all it takes is a single look to scatter them from the carnage. Not so with Pooky. This cat has the audacity to try and steal your dinner while you’re eating it. Repeated beatings have not helped. The trashcan is not safe. An open coke on the counter will be soon be on its side. This animal has even helped himself to our vitamins, which I laid out for the kids in the morning. He might die young under my wrath, but the fish oil pills he ate will make his coat look great at the funeral.

He also has a particularly annoying habit of moving the water bowl before taking a drink. This is really fun when wearing socks, since your feet are nice and soggy the rest of the day. I have actually had contests with him, where I will shoo him out the kitchen when moving the water bowl, which will carefully be put back in its place. He will then creep cautiously back in, lay in front of the bowl and start moving it again. Water spills on the floor, again, and wet socks, and well, you get the picture. Recently, I’ve been putting a towel under the water bowl, to no avail, and my next solution is to velcro to it the floor. Try to move that you vampire.

Speaking of vampires, he also has another annoying traits, this time affecting the other cats; he likes to suck on necks. Now at first, we thought he was trying to mate with one of his sisters. After having his, uh, reasons for wanting to mate removed, we found he continued this bizarre behavior with not only his sister, but with Fuzz. Now unlike his sister, Fuzz was not receptive to this action. In fact, it has made him downright hostile towards Pooky. Does this stop Pooky? Of course not. It is actually quite amusing to watch this smaller cat attack Fuzz, and actually keep him defensive. In truth, Pooky tries to do this to several of the older cats, which only invoke hissing and general ill-will. Like I said earlier, loved and hated at the same time.

He also several other annoying habits. The first of which is to find his way to any available hand for scratching; he is one of the most needful cats we’ve ever owned. Imagine you’re reading a book, watching TV, or just merely resting from the day’s labors. This cat will make his way into your lap, whether or not it is occupied or not, and will proceed to shove his head and body underneath your hands, whether they are holding something or not. If it’s food or drink, you’ll be wearing it. If it’s the TV remote or a book, well, they will simply have to move out of the way for his highness, or become an instrument of self-imposed feline rubbing. But I have not mentioned his favorite time to gratify his feline desires; either right when you’re falling asleep or about 3:30am when you’re already deeply engaged in sleep. For Pooky, your time is his time and he has no problem letting you know this. Not only that, he will crawl under the covers to find your hand if you don’t oblige him when he’s in the mood. It’s a terrible habit for such a young cat and I can only imagine what a tyrant he’ll be when older. That is, if I let him live that long.

He also likes to wrap himself around the coffee table legs and scratch like for all it’s worth. And it must be very worthy since the coffee table legs now look like every doorframe in my house. I suppose it just adds to the décor I’ve grown used to. He is also part of the feline NASCAR team, speeding through the house at horrific speeds at all hours of the day, moving from flat sprawled-out to after-burner in less than 5 seconds. I believe the experts call this the “evening crazies”; I call it insanity at any hour.

Needless to say though he is low, by cat-standards, in the pecking order, no doubt he’ll continue to rise in the popularity polls at our house. For now, Fuzz can still whip him but probably not for long. There’s always a neck to chew or a trash can to disperse across the floor...