My cats are weird.
Now, all cats are weird, this is a fundamental truth. But sometimes my cats bring home their weirdness in no uncertain terms.
Mauser, the grey one, has long fluffy hair which I am too lazy to brush regularly enough. He managed to get some really impressive matts going, so Mom and I nabbed him this morning and held him down and Dealt With Them.
Needless to say, he was not pleased. Once he realized what we were doing, he started in with that high-pitched, closed-mouthed caterwauling that always sounds to me like death threats spoken in Cat. He didn’t try to bite or scratch, of course, as our cats are well-behaved, but still. He was Not Amused. My other cat, Zephyr, prowled around giving these little “what’s going on?” mewls the whole time, too. It was most unnerving.
When we were done, Mauser glared at me until I left the house an hour later.
This afternoon, though, he’s been following me around, rubbing against my ankles, purring like a madman. I wish I had the time to settle down and read a book or something so he could curl up on my lap. It’s insane. He’s never this affectionate. Zephyr usually is, mind you, but noooooo….Zephyr is currently incommunicado.
I reiterate: my cats are weird.
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