Let me repeat: My pets are weirdos.
So what does that say about me? After all, I’m the common denominator. Now don’t get me wrong; that doesn’t mean I think Nellie, Callie, Skip, Wally, Oliver, Savannah, Tippi and Jack are flawed. Quite the contrary. They may be odd but they provide endless entertainment through their weirdness. And anyway, aren’t we all a little odd? Therefore, I’ll gladly take credit for their, shall we say, “unique qualities.”
As you all know, Nellie eats poop so I’m used to that weird trait of hers. But another thing she does (when she thinks I’m not looking) is to leap onto the bed immediately after I’m done making it. She gathers the sheets and comforter into a tiny mountain in the middle of the bed, then plops herself on it and promptly takes a nap. A particularly annoying weirdness…
Callie is almost perfect other than being fear aggressive with strange dogs. STRANGER DANGER! But her weirdness is that she has to sleep with her head right next to mine and breathes into my face all night. (Sorta like a spouse.) Lucky for me, Callie doesn’t also dine on poop but her dog food breath is bad enough, let me tell ya.
Skip is the cutest damn dog this side of the Mississippi. (And maybe even the other side.) His weird idiosyncrasy is that he can’t sleep without his blankie, a piece of flannel he carries around but invariably insists on dropping off the end of the bed, then barks incessantly until smarty pants Callie retrieves it for him. I only had to ask Callie once to “Get the blankie!” And she did. Smartest damn dog this side of the Mississippi.
Wally is so weird I don’t know where to begin. He drools and throws up in the car; pees and poops in the house even though I have a dog door; wears dog diapers because he pees and poops in the house; barks incessantly; chews the area rug; and simply HAS TO sit next to me wherever I’m sitting. And that, my friends, is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg.
I admit Oliver isn’t all that weird. He’s like an old gentleman who sits back and takes it all in. He’s a mellow fellow who doesn’t do anything too odd. That’s not to say he’s boring, exactly. He’s more, let’s say, reserved and observant than entertaining and funny. You gotta have one of those in every family, right?
Savannah is my sweet weirdo who gives love bites on my face to demonstrate her unbridled adoration. Now I understand the meaning of love hurts. I always wondered why my other cats fought with Savannah after she so gently and patiently groomed their faces. Then she’d latch onto a cheek and I had my answer.
Tippi’s latest weird thing she does, besides jumping onto my lap while I’m on the pot, is to sit on the toilet seat while I shower and gaze at me through steamed glass. Talk about obsession and separation anxiety. Tippi’s primary objective in life is to physically attach herself to me. Weird, huh?
Fat Jack is weird only because he doesn’t know he’s a cat. I’ve given up trying to convince him otherwise because nothing I say sinks in. He engages Wally in wrestling matches, grooms the dogs’ necks and ears, sleeps on the bed between Skip and Callie and last night he even slept ON TOP OF Wally. No lie. I tell ya, nothing fazes that boy.
So there you have it; my menagerie of weirdos. And if they could divulge, I’m sure they’d give you an earful about my “unique qualities” too.