the fur kid's birthmonth

Our little fur kid, Charley, turned/turns nine sometime this month.  I don’t know the exact date, only that she was born in February, and she has been my sidekick since she was around three months old.  I love her to bits.

Charley has a range of nicknames, including Charleykins, Fuzzball, (The) Fuzz, Fuzzpants, Poopants, Bub, Kit Kat, Little One, Iceberg (because she has a tiny little head and a big body) and, when she is particularly naughty (oh, the couch), Bad Cat.

Charley loves empty boxes.  And chicken (actually, really she just loves food in general).

She sleeps in her blanket-filled basket in the laundry and every morning, when I open the door to let her out, she does a big stretch on the washing machine, and I pick her up for her morning hug before setting her down in front of her bowl for her breakfast.  Then she has a little snack before doing a running jump onto the bed and settling on D’s chest for awhile before deciding that she wants to go outside.

And then she wants to come inside.

And then she wants to go outside.

And then she wants to come inside.

And then she wants to go outside again.

Whenever D and I go anywhere, she waits for us to come home by whichever gate we used.  

Sometimes, she hangs out in our neighbours’ apartment and when she was smaller, she used to climb trees to get into the apartments upstairs.  On one occasion, someone went into their bathroom to find her sitting in the bathtub, all “whaa-?”

She point blank refuses to let me trim her claws (honestly, it turns into the biggest production you have ever seen) and car trips always, always result in lots of drooling and poop, which makes me feel so bad for her.

From time to time, her little tongue pokes out because she had some teeth pulled a few years ago.

She can meow for an hour for what appears to be no reason at all.

If I am upset, she will climb onto my lap and bump me with her head.

She leaves black fur e v e r y w h e r e !

Whenever I shower, she hangs out in the bathroom and at night, when she gets her bedtime snack, she always looks up at me and meows, which I choose to interpret as a “thank you!”

Clearly, I’m kinda nuts about her.  She is the most awesome little character.  It makes me a bit sad that she is getting older, because it reminds me that she won’t be around forever, and yet I can’t imagine life without her antics.  And now I am making myself sad, so I will stop.  So anyway, happy birthmonth to our fur kid.  As I am fond of saying to her in a singsong voice whilst giving her a big hug: "mummy and daddy love yooouu!"

Wow, I sound like a crazy cat lady.

PS.  I am very happy to have a li'l guest post over at Carla Coulson's blog if you would like to check it out!