Cats and Nerves

My cat is so weird.

Ms. Piggy has this thing where she hunts socks. We're the sort who roll up pairs of socks into cylindrical tubes. She apparently thinks that THESE look more like something to hunt than, say, all the fake-but-real-seeming fur-covered mice toys that are in abundance all over our house. Ms. Piggy will stalk the wild sock tubes and then sit at the bottom of the stairs and make that "I just killed something awesome you've just GOT to check out" insistant meow.

This is she:



I should note that we did not name her. When Mason was very little, only barely verbal, we would go to the pet shelters to look at all the puppies and kitties. A bunch of our cats had all died of different things in the same year (it was a VERY bad year, we also lost two cars.) At any rate, Mason saw Ms. Piggy and fell in love. I'd read the "adopt this pet sheet" that informed us of Ms. Piggy's name and personality traits. It mentioned she was good with kids and other animals, and then, in a very strange (though accurate) afterthought the foster parents had written, "She's friendly and always ready for attention. She drools."

At any rate, both Shawn and I were kind of resistant of getting her not because of the drooling, but because she was declawed (and the rest of our cats aren't). But what finally dissolved my hardened heart was Mason's little head sticking through the bars of the equipment at the playground we used to frequent desperatly telling me: "Piggy love! Piggy home!"

What could I do against such an onslaught of cuteness??? We went and got her. But the name stuck. It's turned out to be fairly appropriate, as she really is a bit of an attention hog, and, despite having been declawed, has a pretty serious temper when she's bugged by the other cats. You can almost hear the "keeeeeee-YAH!" when she takes a swipe.

In other news, I'm nervous because today is the day that my Big Idea goes live on John Scalzi's Whatever Blog.

Barf.