If You Can't Beat 'Em, Join 'Em

I don't really have anything profound to discuss today, so I'm going to resort to cutesy pet pictures. I don't think I've ever done that, so I'm not going to feel terribly guilty about taking the easy way out today, especially since I never share pictures of my children.

We have three cats, despite the fact that Husband is allergic. That was an accident. We started with two cats; Chester and Betsy. Betsy got sick and had to be put to sleep. The kids were distraught, but not so distraught that they did not recognize an opportunity to exploit their grief and guilt me into another pet.

Enter Bo the cat.

We adopted Bo from the Fulton County animal shelter, which is a terribly sad place. So many beautiful pets needing a home; all of them looking at you with beseeching eyes. SIGH. I would take them all home if I could.

Bo was a juvenile and placed on the very bottom row of cages. The kittens of course, were all placed at eye level. We wouldn't have seen him if he hadn't stuck out his paw and beckoned to us as we walked by.

Bo is very stupid, but very sweet, and really, the best behaved of the three. Bo will sit in front of a door that is open an inch or so and wait for someone to open it further so he can get out. Sometimes, one of the other two will open it for him, and I swear, they roll their eyes while they do it. Perhaps he is not stupid, but rather diabolically smart.

Bo will occasionally wander off if an opportunity presents itself. With two boys who can't seem to remember to close a door, those opportunities are not infrequent. I honestly think he forgets how to get home. On one such occasion, Bo was gone for a month, and we had to talk to the boys about the possibility that he was dead, or that someone had taken him in and made him their own.

Again, they were distraught, again, they suckered me into another pet. We went to pick up Chester, who was in for surgery on his leg for an abscess. In the waiting room of the vet's office was a cage containing a 10 week old kitten who was a carbon copy of Chester. He was vigorously attacking some kind of rag toy and he was undeniably adorable.

Oh, the begging, the whining, the pleading! The kids really wantd him too. Husband couldn't take it and so, Leo came home with us.

Two days later, Bo came home.

The kids were overjoyed. Husband? Less so. Not that he wasn't glad to have Bo back safe and sound, but three cats in our small house is, admittedly, a bit much, especially for his immune system, which generally does a good job adjusting, but does get overwhelmed if too much fur is flying.

So, anyway. I've been trying to get them not to sleep on the furniture. As you know, you can't make a cat do anything. So I've encouraged them, by purchasing several little pet beds and scattering them around the house.

Bo will not sleep in or on anything. He sleeps right smack in the middle of the floor or on the steps. He has been tripped over more times than I can count, and still he does this. Tolja. He is one dumb feline.

The other two love the beds. Actually, they love the same bed. Chester is really the alpha male and so, claims the bed as his own. Leo, the youngster, sometimes tries to roust him from the bed, with little success. His best hope is to get to it before Chester does.

Recently, Chester, who although the undisputed king of the castle, is not an aggressive cat, (none of them reallly are) decided he wasn't going to put up with that. But wasn't quite sure how to eject Leo without resorting to violence.

Here is what happened:

He actually started out sitting just outside of the bed, but I didn't think to take a picture at that point. He meowed sternly. Leo ignored him.



So he slowly inched closer, and closer....



And here folks, is the embodiment of the saying "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em."



So there you go, gratuitous cuteness.

BTW, that is my ugly dining room, ca. 1984, which, in the absence of actual dining room furniture has become a storage area for my workout stuff, and the place where the cats congregate, by virture of a large picture window that lets in the afternoon sun in a huge swath each afternoon.

Since then, I have purchased one of those huge puffy dog bed things at the dollar store and the problem seems to be solved. Leo, the upstart, tried to bogart that too, but Chester put a stop to that pretty quickly.

Please forgive the fluffy (pun intended) nature of this post. I'm experiencing technical difficulties of the female kind, and just not in the mood for anything, really, except some hot (literally) sex with a heating pad.