Jack, my recently adopted 4th cat, will be my last. I won’t be guardian to more felines until one of mine goes over the Rainbow Bridge. And it’s not because I’m afraid of being a crazy cat lady. That boat sailed a while ago.
No, the reason I’m stopping after Jack is because, well, you don’t know Jack. And as it turns out, I didn’t either. Now don’t get me wrong; I wouldn’t change my decision to add Jack to my animal family. It’s just that the more I get to know him, his true personality emerges. Need I say more? (Well actually, yes, or I won’t have a blog post today.)
Since Jack appeared to be on the demure side when I adopted him, I consider him an exceptional actor. Award winning, really. After he became comfy, he quickly chucked his shy facade.
My other 3 cats are what you’d call mellow. They’re generally nappers and loungers…put-your-feet-up-and-relax felines. But not Jack. He’s quite the opposite — a mover and a shaker.
Jack sleeps with one eye open so he won’t miss anything. But he prefers engagement over observation. Within my animal family, he’s the social butterfly unable to resist rubbing up against the others to say hello before pouncing on them, then sprinting for the safety of the cat tree.
Jack is a goofy bundle of affection whose exuberance in expressing it can’t be contained. Soon he and Savannah are wrestling, which leads to someone crying and running from the room. That someone is never Jack. I’m not saying he’s a bully, mind you. I prefer referring to him as demonstratively affectionate to the point of annoying excessiveness. How’s that?
As I wrote that last sentence, guess who came running over to plop down on my lap? Never mind that my iPad is occupying said lap. That doesn’t stop Jack. In fact, not much does. Right now he’s chewing on the corner of the iPad. Now he’s rubbing his face in mine like he’s cleaning his cheek. He just left to explore something in the living room, so lets continue while we can.
Did I mention Jack’s a glutton? I bet he’s gained 5 pounds the last couple months to where he looks perpetually pregnant, waddles when he walks and basically resembles a furry balloon. He scarfs his food then pushes the other cats aside to eat theirs.
Jack’s curiosity is as insatiable as his appetite. He adores exploring the backyard and often ends up visiting Paul and Vicki next door, peering through their patio window like a peeping Jack.
This is one busy boy: he plays too rough with Savannah, snuggles with my dog Skip, jumps on the counters, sneaks the dogs’ food, tries to sneak mine, hides under the bed then attacks my feet, unabashedly watches me shower, drags his wand toy throughout the house and meows like a squeaking mouse.
I’m often telling that boy to play nice, calm down, get off, stop that, NO JACK! But he’s also exceedingly gentle and loving with me, the most affectionate of all my pets.
It’s true I didn’t know Jack when I adopted him. But now I do. And I can’t say I’m disappointed. He’s definitely stirred the pot around here, which is not entirely a bad thing.
I have to say, when he’s not being a pain in the ass, I find the guy endlessly entertaining.