My Peeping Tom

I live with a peeping tom and I love it. Relax… he’s a cat. His name is Bruce and he’s a joy to have around though he does spook me sometimes when he appears unexpectedly at my feet or in my lap. “Surprise!”

I have a long history with cats. I just love cats and have painted several of them, good and not so good. (The paintings, not the cats.) I’ve had the good fortune to be a two-legged mama to about two dozen over the years. I tend to adopt in sets. I should write a book one day… so many memories. I brought my first one home when I was probably five. It was a kitten that had been hanging out in the bushes around the neighborhood and “followed me” home. Funny how creatures manage to follow you if you have them securely locked in your arms. Fortunately my father liked cats. I got to keep it. The first of many. (There have also been several dogs in my life at the same time as the cats. I am a multi-pet lover.)

Clear the Shelter!

Back in October of 2018 the local animal shelter was full and begging for folks to come out, so I just happened to be driving by… two miles out of my way… and stopped in. Actually, I had been wanting to add another cat to the household ever since my sweet Nala passed from a stroke about seven months earlier. I also felt that NuNu (our other adult cat) absolutely needed another feline friend. Anyway, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. So, I stopped by with the intention of looking for a cat, one cat, a female. For some reason, I tended to gravitate toward females and they seem to gravitate towards me. So there I was looking for a cat when a volunteer at the shelter grabbed me and took me over to a litter of two month old babies that needed a home with someone “experienced”. Yep, she saw me coming from a mile, make that two miles, away. I came home that day with two kittens, a female and (so unlike me) a male. Siblings.

Calling the Husband

Confession here. My husband had no idea I was at the shelter, though I had been talking about getting another cat for months. That was a phone call, he didn’t expect and boy was he speechless! Good thing he likes me. I thought it might lessen the shock of finding out he’s going to be a (pet) father again by emphasizing that “one’s a boy!” I mean, who doesn’t want a son? Think of the bonding! I also thought it would help to let my husband name him. I kept suggesting we call him Frankie… it was October and Halloween was coming. Get it? He liked “Bruce”. Guess who won’t be getting naming rights again.

Bruce, the Almighty Tom Cat

As all animals do, they grow up fast. At one year old, he acts like a preteen. “What’s there to eat? Did you clean my litter box? Where’s my stuff? Don’t bother me.” You get it. Unlike his sister who is perfectly happy being carried, he only tolerates being picked up for short periods of time. When he was a kitten, he would stand up on his back legs (like a dog) wanting me to pick him up. Not any more. He used to “surprise” me with lap attacks every time I would sit down. Those have become fewer as he prefers to curl up by himself in my recliner now. He does, however, check to see what I’m doing quite regularly. He is a cat, and cat’s are curious. One thing he still does that I kind of hope never changes is this: he flops (yes, flops) down next to me at night and does his little “kneading” dance on my arms or stomach when he’s sleepy. Thank goodness for cat nail clippers or people might get the wrong idea about me and start planning an intervention.

Speaking of intervention, I had better go and check the food bowls.

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