Sunday, May 30, 2010

Tale of the two cats



Having two cats at home is rather entertaining. At any point of time, one of them might just slowly strut into your room, looking like it is doing a routine inspection, before strutting out again. Edward just did that as I was typing this. Then on his heels, you can see New new stalking him, ready to pounce on him as he is going through his rounds.


Cats like to be stealthy, and they like to hide. So sometimes it is hard to know exactly where the cats are. Fortunately, it is easier to find two cats instead of just one cat. Whenever I am looking for them, I would just stroll out of my room, and find Ed sitting innocently looking straight at me. That's a clear sign that New new is behind him somewhere, attempting to do something naughty. I have no idea whether Ed is trying to act like the big brother, standing out in the open as a lookout, and putting on the "huh? Nothing is happening here. Move along, move along" face; or he is acting like the tattletale, "I have absolutely nothing to do with whatever she is doing, if she is doing anything at all. See? I am innocent."

I suspect it's the latter. Ed is not very gentlemanly at all. I just dropped some kibbles on the floor for them, and Ed hissed at New new for nosing at the kibbles. It's not even a special treat: they have an unlimited supply of that particular kibbles in their food bowl all the time. New new just ignored him, and walked to Ed's food bowl and ate half of his bowl of kibbles there, while Ed polishes off the three tiny pieces of kibbles I dropped on the floor.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

My dog

I also have a dog. She doesn't live with me and my cat though; she lives with my girlfriend instead.
Sophie, the dog (or actually, the bitch), loves me. She makes this very clear from the way she hyperventilates while wagging her tail furiously every time I drop by. She also barks at me, jumps on me (and my nuts), bites my hand when I stroke her, and tries to rip my skin off with her nails when I am doing absolutely nothing to her. She also does the occasional lunging for my throat when I'm cutting her nails. But she loves me. I think.

She also loves my socks. If you can't find her around the house, then you can bet a leg that she's under the bed chewing on my socks. Many a times I had to go home wearing a saliva-soaked sock.

One of her favorite hobbies is eating poop. That's why it is giving me pause to note that another of her favorite past-time is licking our hands. The second-worst possible scenario is hearing Mel's parents shout from the living room, "Aiyoh, she just ate poop again!" when she is licking your hand. The worst scenario would be hearing that when she's licking your face. I think I should be thankful that I've only ever encountered the second-worst scenario before.

Sophie has a nice English name--rather befitting of a dog that belongs to two Philosophy majors. Mel gave it to her. She also has a Chinese name, which I gave her--Er Wei. I think it sounds very sophisticated, and gentle and everything nice. And since her surname is Goh, taking Mel's surname, we use her full name very frequently. Especially when she is trying to clamber onto us, or trying to burrow herself into our armpits.


Practicing to be a rug.

Cats

I have two cats in my home, one black one white. The white one belongs to me, while the black one doesn’t. The black one, called New New, belongs to my dad. And it is peeing in my cat’s litter tray, instead of her own, as I am typing this.


The reason why New New belongs to my dad is because he was the one who picked her up from the streets, even after much protests from the family and Edward, which is my white cat. My dad insisted, and he insisted he wants a cat to himself, so now New new is here to stay. My way to deal with the problem is to be absolutely clear that I would not clean up after his cat, and let him know that rearing a cat is not a simple walk in the park. New new peeing in my cat’s litter tray threw a wrench in my perfect plan.

I have no idea why, but animals seem to like me–maybe because of some scent I have, or maybe I’m just very good at playing with them. The black cat spends almost all her time in my room when I’m home. This is not without its benefits. My white boy, the rebellious teenager, spends almost all his time keeping an eye on her. New new being in my room means that he is spending more time in his room (which is my room) too.

New new is still in the kitten phase–which means she is very playful, and she doesn’t mind human contact. Edward is long past the stage, and he is unusually fastidious, even for a cat. He would endure you stroking him for all of 5 seconds, then he would grumble very loudly and stalk off. He wasn’t like that when he was still a baby.


I think I am experiencing fatherhood way before I have kids.