His sweetest photos are taken when he’s sleeping, all curled up and cute. Awake, his eyes show a chilling intelligence and will respond to your questions in cat-speak. Otherwise you get just simple regal disdain.
Kasper was adopted from the county pound at 7 weeks old and came complete with fleas and an eye infection. Our days were filled with my scorched earth approach to carpet and furniture cleaning, along with continuous daily meds – for the cat, not me. I’m sure our uneasy peace was imprinted at that time. After those hurdles, he grew to be a giant fat cat with an attitude. Trips to the Vet resulted in fresh stripes down my arm, war wounds serving as reminder that he would never surrender. My failed attempts to get him into a cat harness showed me just how long he holds a grudge.
He is Garfield to my dog’s Odie. One day I was sitting in the bedroom with my Bailey pup planted nearby, waiting on my every whim, when I caught sight of a disembodied paw reaching out from behind the corner. “Hey,” I said, and the paw pulled back with just as much controlled intention. He would bide his time.
Whenever we go away for a few days and book the pet visitor, we need to pay for our indiscretion upon our return. Somehow I am the usual the target. Just one swat, nails out, while walking past him, when I’m hopping into bed, or any time I am not looking over my shoulder. Punishment administered, we are good again…until the next violation.
Kasper is a healthy 15 yr old and I write this because we will be moving cross-country with this creature. I know when we finally drop him into our new home, there will be absolute hell to pay.
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