Batman is currently licking our floor. No particular reason. Just thinks wood is tasty, I guess. Or maybe I should say “wood” since I don’t think our craptastic apartment complex sprang for the expensive stuff.
In case you don’t know (and I really hope you don’t, because it makes the first sentence so much better), Daniel and I recently adopted a stray kitten. We named it Betty, and after the vet educated us on girls and boys, we renamed him Batman. Yes, I know that I am writing a post about my cat, and how sad that is. Give me a break; at least it isn’t about Dr. Quinn this time.
That one is for tomorrow.
I don’t like cats. I have never liked cats. I never saw the point. With a dog, a monkey, a ferret, you get to play with them and take them on walks (yes, ferrets can go on walks – and check out that picture on the right…) and they are so excited to see you. With cats, they sit there while you sit there, and then they walk on your computer and scratch you for having the audacity to uncross your legs.
But when I saw little Batman, all by his lonesome on our deck and just wanting someone to wuv him, I had to help him. I told my husband about him and he said I could feed it, just not near our house so the cat wouldn’t hang around. I forgot that pretty quick and the cat started hanging around. Then Daniel said don’t pet it because I would get attached. I accidentally petted it. Then he begged me not to pick it up because there would be no going back. You can guess where this story ends. Us with a mystery-gendered cat, trying to figure out how to put everything in our tiny apartment onto a really high, really non-existent ledge.
Now, though, I love Batman. Still hate cats. But this one is okay. Except… I think he might have some emotional/mental issues. This is the strangest cat I’ve ever encountered. We have a spray bottle that we use when he climbs onto the table. It works great. But after I spray him and set the bottle down, the little weirdo sidles up to the bottle as if he is seducing it, then cuddles with it and starts to purr. If I set the bottle on the table, he stares at it as though it is the Holy Grail of Kittens. I don’t know if the bottle is an old flame or just reminds him of the thrill of getting in trouble. To each his own, right?
He also likes to lie in wait under our bed, wait for us to get all cozy under the covers, and then launch himself onto our comforter, taking delight in my screams while Daniel does a remarkable impression of someone being hit with a flamethrower. Since he’s all black, we can’t see him… until it’s too late. I can’t even tell if he’s facing toward me or away from me when the lights are off. But I’m pretty sure his head spins all the way around anyway so it probably doesn’t matter.
|“The darkness pleases me.”|
Today, Batman become less of a man and more of a Pat. He has done pretty well, except he is as high as a kite, which we’re finding to be enjoyable. He kind of ambles around, listing to one side, and every so often he tries to jump up onto the couch but soon gives up – the carpet is pretty comfy, anyway. But the funniest thing is that he really isn’t all that different than usual, except for the random snacking of cardboard boxes and the inability to escape from them:
|First attempt to get out…|
|…ehhh, who wants to leave a box anyway, right?|
|Daniel took mercy on him and helped him out… then Batman started eating the box.|
But, hey, he’s cute, right? That gets him pretty far. You can always acquire skills but cuteness is paramount to getting ahead in this crazy, mixed-up world. We get to give him more drugs again in 33 minutes… I’m excited.