The Cat's Meow

Xerxes is a Snow Bengal, a pale deviation achieved by breeding the common golden Bengal with a Siamese:


Siamese were bred for conversation, because the people of Siam had one of those "good ideas" that changed the world irrevocably for the worse, like religious sacrifice and fuchsia velour.

Side note: I love Sony, where "game promotion" means "sacrificing a goat and serving guests out of its still-warm carcass."
Don't order the chicken.

Anyway. Siam.
It baffles the mind that:
a) an animal kept for pleasure by humans was genetically altered, by humans, exponentially increasing its ability to irritate...humans, and
b) assuming irritation wasn't the goal (because that would be madness), no one ever stopped (in all those successively more annoying cat generations) and cried out, "My god, this cat is so annoying! What in Goliath's thong are we doing?!"

Thank you, Siam. Your contribution to the zen of our species is duly noted.
In return, please accept our gift of an air raid siren which will auto-test every fifteen minutes for the next twenty years.
WHAT? I AM SORRY, I CAN'T HEAR YOU.
THE CAT YOU MADE DEAFENS US ALL.


It was hard to like Xerxes. In fact, I liked him least of all.
He was the smartest, the most well-behaved...but the noise...
Do you remember those old Sylvester cartoons, like Back Alley Oproar?

I wanted to kill him. I'm not afraid to say it.
I didn't kill him. I didn't hurt him. But I'm amazed the side of his head didn't burst into flame with the ferocity of my glare.

Then, I read something I'd forgotten long ago;
Cats meow only to communicate with humans, and not to communicate with other cats.
He was talking to me, talking to us.

Maybe he just wanted attention.
Does that sound far-fetched?
Faced with the alternative - fifteen years of MMMEEEOOOWWW - I'm choosing the alternative of childlike optimism.
The next time he meowed, I softly called his name.
He looked at me, a little puzzled, but jumped onto the couch. I pet his head for a moment, and then he lied down next to me as I started this entry.

If it doesn't work, I suppose I can always start a YouTube channel, like the Bengal Mean Kitty.

Help. There are cats on me.

That's where I'm good with cats.
Need a funny picture of an uncomfortable cat?
Need your cat in a silly green hat?
Need someone to roll up your cat like a burrito of fur and fat?
Need someone to toss it into a soapy vat? Or chase it with a bat? Or...
You get the idea.

I don't snuggle, and neither did my favorite cat, Chaos.
He'd just sit there stare at you, all cool and suave and Chat Noir.

And if you reached out to pet him, he'd give you this face...like if you touched him, he would haunt your children's children's children.
Man, I loved that cat.

Christabella isn't friendly either - which I loved.
It's the sole perk of her anthrophobia.
She's terrified of people. All people. People she sees every day. People who fed her five minutes ago. You never know when it's going to strike, but 345 times a day, you'll be greeted with...

WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU PEOPLE?!
WHERE IS MY DOG?! YOU'RE ALWAYS TRYING TO STEAL MY PILLS!
WHERE AM I? WHAT YEAR IS IT - TUESDAY?

It would be hilarious if she had been declawed.
As it is, it's like living with Rikki Tikki Tavi on meth.

Still, it's better than the alternative.

When my partner and I moved in together, he said Christabella "wasn't a real cat," because cats express love. I disagree, but that doesn't mean that he shouldn't sleep with a purring Care Bear. So we got another cat. His cat. Xerxes. The noisy ball of love. And then he gave me Moogle.
...Because beneath all his sexiness hides an awful truth...

I don't think he believes a problem exists that can't be solved with cats.

What's worse - He turned them into lovey, snuggly cats. Damn him.
And now that I was nice to Xerxes, they won't go away. They're all sitting on my lap like I'm supposed to bring them presents in eighteen days.

Help me.