Reply #8: So many memories of Dilbert, the first cat Mr. MG and I got [View All]

[MorningGlow]

Like...he had a habit of seeking us out, sitting very still, and staring us down when the food dish was empty. He had been a stray (we picked him up when he was about six months old and loaded with every parasite in the kitteh sick-book) and I think he was always paranoid about where his next meal was coming from. He also loved the mile-long red string that was used by the tree farm to wrap up our Christmas trees every year--and woe betide the hoomins who dared cut off a piece to give him instead of leaving the thing whole and tangled up to catch on everything in the house. On the other hand, he was terrified of plastic grocery bags--he knew enough not to mess with them but could never resist, and one time he managed to stick his head through the handle, freaked out, and then tore through the entire house with the killer grocery bag "chasing" him. I thought he was going to have a heart attack till Mr. MG tackled him and got the offending bag off his neck.

But my favorite memories of Dilbert were when we brought home his sisters. We got Jasmine, my familiar, next, and did the traditional thing of bringing her into the house in a cat carrier and letting them get acquainted through the metal bars of the door. Dilbert saw the other feline, did a double take, and glared at us, CLEARLY communicating "You can't be serious". Then he walked up to the cat carrier, all kinds of cautious, sniffed Jasmine, and then looked over his shoulder at us, CLEARLY communicating, "Why?! Did I do something wrong? Was I not enough for you? Why, o hoomins, why?!"

Eventually he and Jasmine became friends, even (gasp) curling up together to sleep--we have photographic evidence--but bringing home Clover was the last straw. On my honor, when we brought her into the house in the cat carrier and put it on the floor, Dilbert walked up to it, peered inside, and looked at us, CLEARLY communicating, "Oh. My. God. Didn't you learn your lesson the last time? I wash my hands (paws) of you." And he stomped away. He and Clover never did make friends (she's way too neurotic), but when he was unwell, before he died, she kept him company on the guest room bed.

And, although I've posted this pic here before, it bears a repost, because Dilbert was a master at cramming his fat, fuzzy butt into ANY size box, just to claim it and prove it could be done. So forthwith, an encore presentation of Kitteh Loaf: