FACT: I started this blog entry on 8/12 and forgot all about it. So here goes a filler post before a filler post. Fillerpostception.
AKA: Jakey, Jake-Jake, Jake-Face, Toothy, Fluffypants, Jake from State Farm
DOB: c. June 2012
Adopted: June 12,2013
Weight: 14 lbs
Breed: Norwegian Forest Cat mix
Known litter mates: BK
trying to get outside
chittering at birds and squirrels
sleeping on clean laundry
eating foam (foam mats, flip-flop sandals, Nerf darts, etc)
hugs while I’m on the toilet
his green wool and catnip mouse
being picked up unless he asks
plastic bag noises
being in the car
my face in his face
being closed out of the bedroom because if not this happens all night:
Not too terribly much more to say about Jake. He’s loving and sweet and a lap cat cuddler. He wants your full attention, regardless of computer, book, child, or food in your hands. He loves to sneak outside but just huddles on the sidewalk or under the hedges and meows. He howls like he’s dying but he just wants everyone to know that he killed his toy mouse for the 3,487th time. This generally happens first thing in the morning, dinner time, and in between the hours of 12-3 AM. He’s a creature of habit. He is seriously crazy when it comes to catnip. I clean his right eye of gunk every day. The left side never has an issue. He doesn’t give a shit about the fish tanks but he loves the smell of fish food. He sneaks licks of coconut oil from the lid of the jar and the ends of my hair. I use it for my hair and skin, not for cooking.
The kids love love love made up stories and Jake has been the protagonist in many a tale. One thing that never really changes is his primary (cover) profession: biscuit maker. Jake has an amazing factory where he makes every kind of biscuit imaginable. Sometimes he has to go away because he’s needed for his ninja skills. I think only once did I make Jake the bad guy because ‘Hey, diddle, diddle, the cat and the fiddle…” He had to make money, so he played a stolen violin on the street corner for money. Soon he had enough to pay for a new violin and for whatever the reason was that he needed money in the first place. He really does lead an interesting life, that one.
Once he had a a terrible stomach illness, probably brought on by eating foam like an asshole. Diarrhea. So much diarrhea. When nictitating tissue is inflamed or doesn’t retract, it’s a huge red flag. I had to cook him chicken breast and brown rice for a week. He was a mess. I was in tears; just so overwhelmed and scared to death that this was going to be another Boris. He made a full recovery and we threw out all the Nerf darts and hide all the foam floor mats. Fyi, cat proofing a house is a bigger pain in the ass than baby proofing.
The rest of the time, he’s busy just being a cat. He’s very chatty. When he wants to be picked up, he doesn’t care if I’m on the toilet, eating dinner, teaching or any combination of the three. He’s shredded my shoulder on many occasion. He comes when he’s called, he suffocates me with love and a copious amount of fur. Love, love, love.