His official name is Mr. Fluffy Pants. We call him Asshole.
He’s a grumpy, jumpy long-haired who-knows-what that showed up in the arms of a neighbor one day as a kitten.
He’s always had attitude disorder – maybe a narcissistic disorder? Have you heard the one “A cat doesn’t have owners, it has staff”? He seems to have a smug look on his face most of the time, like he knows something we don’t and he’s not about to tell. Why inform the little people?
Effort is an issue with him.
Everything he does is half-hearted. He’s halfway out the door (or in) when you open it for him, halfway into catching a mouse and God forbid the dish gets halfway empty.
Open a can of tuna, however, and he’ll awaken from the deepest slumber and come trotting – not running (that wouldn’t be dignified). He loves his tuna juice.
He fancies himself a great hunter but ultimately, that requires too much effort. We caught him stalking turkeys one day. “What are you gonna do with it when you catch it” , we thought? He eventually walked away from that one.
He once threw-up in my lap, looked at me like I was crazy and left the room.
He loves his catnip. We planted some in the garden just for him and we make it a ritual to visit the bush daily.
Cats don’t know how to interact with humans. If we’re outside, he’ll show up and do his lame “I’m here” routine. Cats just happen along like “Oh, it’s you”, and look like they have something better to do. God forbid they show any real interest in us humans.
Asshole is the king of all he surveys (including us). Hopefully we live up to his expectations.