She loves attention!I got a new roommate Monday, and already I've caught him snooping through my stuff, eating my lunch and spying on me in the shower.
Yesterday he woke me up by putting his butt on my face. Later, he decided VHS tapes don't belong on the bookshelf, so he went ahead and started making a pile of them on the floor.
Every time I open the fridge, he wants me to get him something. (Every time! Which is amazing considering how much he sleeps.) When we were in the kitchen last night, he decided he would persuade me to buy those tear-proof garbage bags by showing me how easy it is to rip holes in the ones I buy now.
Not to mention, I think he used to bake a lot of bread or something. He's got this strange obsession with kneading.
I've never had a first week with a roommate quite like this one. And I'd probably be pretty annoyed by now if he wasn't so darned cute and cuddly.
My roommate's name is Ozzy, and he's a fluffy gray kitten from a loving home that, due to circumstances out of his control, needed to move to a new loving home.
So far, he's adjusted pretty well. According to my research, he's shown me that he's adopted me as his cat mom by pressing his paws on me in that gentle, back-and-forth motion. But then again, he must think everyone is his cat mom because he's kneaded on every person who has walked through my front door.
He's found some hiding spots already, like under the coffee and end tables. But I don't think he's discovered the Magical World of Under the Couch yet. That was one of the places my first cat, Candy, liked most. She left my life almost five years ago, but when I moved a few months back, I saw that some of her fur is still stuck to the underside of the sofa.
And unlike my next and most recent cat, Mindy, who ran away two years ago when she was preggers and ready to pop (never to be seen or heard from again <>), Ozzy has made himself at home sleeping in my bed. Matter of fact, he does everything with me when I'm home. I wake up, there he is. I go fix a snack, there he is. I watch TV on the couch, there he is on the coffee table or in my lap. I flush the toilet, he gets a kick out of watching the water go down the hole.
He was never alone at his old home. There was another kitty, and a big brother dog. So I'm glad he hasn't shown any signs of stress from the move. I did catch him sharpening his claws on the couch, which likely means I'll be looking into declawing in addition to neutering and shots.
I'll have some adjusting to do, too. It's been a while since I've had a cat in the house, so I'll have to remember to watch my step and keep counter clutter to a minimum. I have a feeling counter clutter will quickly and easily become floor clutter. I'll have to dig up my lint brushes because, as I found out Monday, gray cat fluff shows up pretty vividly against black dress pants. And, of course, I'll have to always, always, always check for reflective eyeballs in the oven and dryer before I turn them on.
