So I have this cat, see. His name is Fezzik. There’s a reason for that. He is, as you might have guessed, the brute squad. 20+ pounds of sheer stupid, Fezzik sports his too tiny head and David Bowie eyes like weapons. Hell, he uses that nugget of a head of his to wound.

Anyway. He’s a sweetheart, really. He just has his moments. He’ll purr if you simply touch him. I mean with a finger tip. The engine revs and he rumbles sorta like a frog. That’s with just a finger. God help you if you make the mistake of petting him, or looking like you might pet him, or thinking generally in his direction about the concept of possibly petting him sometime that week. Then you get the full on city bus effect.

Shortly after that, if at all possible, he will position himself so that he can start to head butt you. His small skull, made of granite, has a need. A need for collision.

*THUNK*

He loves you so much. His skull into yours followed by a little kneading and rubbing.

*THUNK*

It’s such pure wonderful love. Especially at 4am. On a workday. No. Really.

*THUNK*

But enough about that. He is also a trained killer. Recently he picked up a plastic fork. Then he learned how to hold it in his mouth and throw it. Except he only throws it at me. Tines first. Any plastic fork anywhere in the apartment will eventually be picked up and then thrown at me. The other night he saw a small takeout package of a napkin, knife and spoon in a see-through plastic bag.

He grabbed the bag in his teeth and wandered off with it so he could sit down, in peace, and tear it open. He was looking for a fork. When he realized there was no fork he just left the scattered remains n the floor for me to deal with.

Still, fork or not, he does love me. I know this because he can’t wait to tell me all about it. Constantly. He meows like, as a friend once said, “a muppet being violated”, and by God I can’t make that any funnier or more accurate. It’s this little eeping noise from this huge beast. And he wanders around eeping until I say “Fezzik? Whaaaat?” and then he stops and walks over to me and looks up at me slowly. Then he eeps.

If other people are around I shorten this dialogue to a tongue click. He understands them now. We have our own language it seems. Christ that’s kinda almost sad, isn’t it? But we do. Tongue clicks, finger snaps, little snicking noises, there’s a whole dialect now that he understands. He still feels free to ignore it when he wants, but he understands it.

It’s like the paper. He eats it. Mostly for attention, I find, these days. If I ignore him for too long he will start tugging and chewing paper until I notice him. If there are people over and no one is paying attention to him - despite his leaping onto tables, chairs and people to get that needed attention - he will turn to paper as his last resort.

He doesn’t eat books (except for the time he chewed on a copy of Dianetics, but who can really blame him for that) but he loves the taste of a nice cardboard. Also brown paper bags are tastier than printer paper. If you were wondering.

Fezzik just has discriminating tastes. It’s why he can’t stand to see the bottom of his food bowl. Oh how that causes stress! The smallest sight of the bottom of that bowl sends him into a fury of action and panic. Yup. ‘Cause this might be the time I say “fuck it” and let the tubby bitch starve.

The cat ain’t bright. He runs down the hall as fast as possible and pounces the front door. Repeatedly. Pouncing the floor due to a bit of dust moving I can understand. The door though… the door did nothing to him.

My neighbors must hate me. The thundering horde along the hallway all night. God only knows what they think goes on in my place all day and night. I got carpeting along the hall just to muffle him.

But then he comes to sit near me while I watch a movie and curls up right against me and falls asleep. And it’s hard to hold anything in world against him.

He even purrs while asleep in your hand.