Driving home last night I realized that while I named the blog partially for my cat I haven’t mentioned him much. I’m trying to avoid the spinster librarian who lives with a cat stereotype or the crazy cat lady moniker.
I’ve already talked about Mojo’s upbringing to this point and my history with cats. Each time I lost one of my cats I swore it was the last. Yeah, I know ‘never say never’. After losing Nacho in October 2010, adopting Jingles, and then losing him in November 2011; I swore I was done. I enjoyed the lack of responsibility, no vet bills, etc. I realized despite the financial and personal freedom – not to mention the fact that it is a lot easier to rent a place when you have no animals – I was lonely. So back I jumped into the pool. What can I say; I’m a sucker for dark haired, blue-eyed males.(All six of my meezers have been either seal or chocolate points.) I wanted to refrain from my usual follow up to that statement but I can’t . They are the perfect men; they don’t leave the toilet seat up or hog the remote to watch football. Jingles did have a thing for Dance Moms though but we would watch that together.
Siamese are highly intelligent, vocal and independent; a breed that is not for everyone. I have heard that some rescues won’t take them because of these traits – basically they are divas but that’s what I love about them.
When I lost Jingles I let the director of the Siamese Rescue center from which I adopted him know. I asked her if I could volunteer now and then to get my meezer fix because I wasn’t going to go through that again – twice in less than a year was too much. Crafty woman that she is, she invited me to an upcoming event at the center – that way I could learn about the volunteer opportunities, yeah, right. I guess I must have sucker written on my forehead. Knowing I could also visit the current adoptees I checked out the profiles on their webpage (gratuitous plug http://www.siameserescue.org/). Admittedly, Mojo was my second choice but when I walked into the center and saw him, the ear makes him easy to recognize – he had me at his first purr. Mojo is a diva, drama queen, ex street thug and teddy bear. I was told he was found on the streets of my state capital behind a vet’s office. If you can see his picture you can see that his right ear is damaged. Best guess is that he was in a fight got a hematoma in his ear which calcified so he has a dented ear which requires a little special care. He is my favorite type of meezer known as an apple head. They are bigger they don’t have the thin face or rat-tail. Mojo is built like a football player- he is very stocky and looks big though he’s just about 9 lbs – he’s all fur. (As I am coming to discover now that the weather is warm and he’s shedding. If you come to my house in black pants or skirt don’t sit anywhere unless I give you a towel. His hairballs, I must say, are very well made – symmetrical and well formed, which fortunately makes them easy to clean up). I brought Mojo home the day I met him – what can I say, I’m easy. Jingles transport from the center was very traumatic so I was a bit wary. Other than the fact that he screamed like he was being tortured for the hour long trip home, it was uneventful. In the dining room, I opened the door to the carrier, he walked out and looked around as if to say – “This is where I’m going to live, it’ll do.” Three hours later we were on the couch together watching an NCIS marathon on TV. Other than a small accident in February that required me throwing out an area rug, its been smooth sailing. (He just came over and plopped himself on top of my notebook. As I’m writing around a cat who is alternately eating the pen and licking my forehead I hope I can read this later – turns out I couldn’t had to do some creative editing. My guess is he doesn’t want his life publicized.) He has settled in well the ‘survive at any cost’ mentality is disappearing. He is less inclined to steal my dinner – happened once – now that he’s sure of a constant supply of dry food. He is a bit of a food critic though. If he doesn’t find the canned food to his liking, he attempts to bury it – think cat in litter box after he has finished his business. However, having spent time not knowing when his next meal would be, he eventually eats it.
He, like all Siamese, is a diva and thinks the world should revolve around him. Of course, it does. The drama queen in him does not like to be too hot or too cold. As I have said before, I’d rather spend my money on dance lessons so I keep the heat at 65. He doesn’t like this. The second the heat goes on he stretches himself across the closest register. Conversely I have yet to turn on the AC despite several days in a row at or near 90 – it’s already cooled off so what was the point. Now he stretches out on the floor between the front and back doors to catch any cross breeze. He hasn’t been sleeping with me because the bedroom is too hot. He doesn’t come upstairs until it’s time for me to get up. Anyone who says animals aren't intelligent has never lived with one. Mojo has the instincts of Leroy Jethro Gibbs. My breathing changes because I’m waking up and that cat knows it. No matter where he is in the house he’s up in my bedroom and on the bed in a flash walking all over me. The only reason he was on the bed with me last night was that it was raining and the upstairs had cooled down.
So that’s life with my guy as of now. He thinks I should cater to his every whim and I do, most of the time because the companionship, unconditional love and joy he brings into my life are worth it.
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