Good morning, my loves! I feel like I need to clarify something right out the gate. The title of this post is Dance With the Devil (obviously, you know what that is about) and My Cat’s Nuts. I felt I should just get out of the way right now that we are using Cat’s in the possessive sense, as in the nuts are belonging to my cat, and not some backwoods contraction of “Cat is.” Well…….I guess it could go that way as it is a fitting description of his mental state, but that’s not where I was going with this.
Let me explain….
This Monday, I took the day off from work to bring my kitten to the vet’s office to get fixed. He’s just hit nine months old and he’s a MONSTER. My dad and I did some research and based on body type and size, fur type, and behavior, and have determined that chances are pretty good that Tiggy’s daddy was a Maine Coone.
Well, the other two cats in my household are Dru(silla) and Gurlie, both female, both indoor cats, neither fixed. I know, I know, but they have been indoor cats their whole life, so I figured it was just unnecessary.
Last summer, Gurlie got out. For nine days. When she came back, she came back with a little extra spring in her step. A little over nine weeks later, I had three furry jelly beans. Within days, we had named them. Runty (the smallest of the bunch; claimed by my best friend), Corey (named after Corey Taylor because my daughter is obsessed, and really, who can blame her?), and Stella (resulting in us pulling a Brando – greeting her every day by yelling Stellllllaaaaaa! similar to his role in Streetcar Named Desire).
About three weeks later, we lost two of the babies to fading kitten syndrome (essentially SIDS – happens suddenly for seemingly no reason at all). Right then, we chose to keep Stella even though we had originally been planning to rehome all three.
Stella thrived. The kitten grew at an obnoxious rate. We could even see the size difference within days of the litter being born (see picture of all three above). This kitten was always drastically larger than the other two, so when Stella was the only one that survived, we weren’t exactly shocked.
As Stella got bigger, fur just exploded out of everywhere. It pointed in every which direction. There was hair coming out of the kitten’s ears and down between its toes (like, pointing down). The fluff just kept coming.
Then one day the kitten was playing on my bed, rolled over onto its back, and that’s when we saw it.
Stella was not a Stella at all. Stella had man junk.
With the revelation of his sexual identity, the name Stella didn’t fit anymore, so we named his Tig after Tig Trager on Sons of Anarchy – a character that is just not quite right in the head, but you cant help but adore him anyway. Tig gets called Tig, Tiggy, Tigalicious, and Tigmastaflex. Occasionally, my daughter still calls him Stella in the Brando-esque manner we established when he was super-young. He just looks at her like she’s mentally deficient and goes back to whatever important cat shit he has to do.
A little bit of background – the other two cats hate Tig. Like, they really, really, really hate him. His presence in the house just offends them to the core.
As Tig grew, he started becoming interested when the girls went into heat. Things escalated to the point where I set his appointment to get him fixed, then had to keep them separated until the big appointment. We had a few instances of having to chase him away as he decided to take one of the girls to pound town. And yes, included his mom. Gross.
Monday’s appointment rolled around, and having been through this with animals before, I knew that chances were good he’d spend half a day sleeping when I brought him home.
No, not Tig.
Tig decides it’s a good idea to get right back to business. No joke. From the second he was out of the transport box, he immediately ran right to Dru and started laying the pipe.
This is what my life has become. Me walking into a room, flipping on the light, and busting my fur babies doing the dirty. Until about a month ago, he was my sweet little boy. Now I look at him and cant help but think he’s a big pervy perv.
My hope is that with time, and you know…..no nuts, Tig will stop this and go back to being just the big, dumb idiot of the house with no interest in girl cats whatsoever.
Anyway, today is a writing day!!!! I’m at work, but Fridays are notoriously slow here, so I am hoping to crank out a few thousand words in Dance With the Devil. I woke up in the middle of the night last night and a really hot scene popped into my head. I wrote out the basic framework in my notebook and promptly slipped back into a coma. I am hoping to get that and one other finished today in my trusty Word document.
Dude, nope. at 12, and fixed for the last 11, Sully is still a perv and has made at least one pair of Hello Kitty slippers his bitch. It’s a Maine Coon thing.