Platitude Paradise

I have a bad-assed cat. Had you heard? Yeah ... he is a B.A.D.A.S.S. He ignores, without prejudice, each of the following names he's been called: Woody, Woodster, Woodstock, Woodrow, Stinky-Stinkerson, Black Head, Guts and Pig-Cat. (Along with the ever popular, you tubby little shit !) A few things I have learned about this animal are: His shit stinks worse than any other animal I have ever had the pleasure of being near whilst it shat ... seriously, it smells like he ate the arsehole out of a skunk. He has absolutely no manners whatsoever and parades around on the sacred ground of counter tops and tables without shame. You can't so much as pour a bowl of cereal for the children without a black cloud descending upon it from what seems like every direction. If it is liquid ... he will drink it. Even if that means he has to stick his paw into the container and lap it up a pawful at a time. His absolute favorite beverages? Anything milky, my meal replacement shakes, Hu...

I love your furry little tootsies that sound like wooden pegs on the hardwood as you trot down the hallway in your heavy-tootsied way. I love how you purr so big, it's enough to wake the dead. I love your velvet soft exterior coating. I love your melodious singing voice ... ahem caterwauling . I love that you talk to us ... all.the.time. I love that you 'don't "take no shit" off no dumbass dawg' (sorry, Cooper ... you know you are the dog in my heart). I love that you are so gentle with the children. I love that you love everybody in the house ... but love me the best. I love your GREAT BIG puss-onality. I love (secretly, of course) that you terrorize Mom's badass cat like she used to do to my precious Chloe. But most of all, I love that when I get ready for bed and look up the stairs to the upper landing (where you are perusing your kingdom) - all I have to say is: "I'm goin' to bed, buddy ... you comin'?" ...and...

No wonder I feel so hopeful.  New love is exquisite... and all powerful. It makes so many unpleasant things seem so much less important. He's pudgy, black, furry ... and a badass of epic proportion. The quintessential "Tom-cat" ... or "Thomas Pussy" as my eloquent mother would say. His name is Woodstock ... or 'Woody' for short (I didn't name him or it would be Jocko ... he looks more like a Jocko than a Woody). I adopted him last weekend and he is the new love of my life. My camera is suffering a psychotic break right now and I can not get it to hold a charge long enough to snap a pic ... but there will be pics of my booful new kitty-man... you just hang in and there will be plenty snaps of the most recent "thing that poops" to call our funny farm home. Welcome Jocko Woody.