I managed to give one away to a good home. I check on her from time to time, and she is happy. I had no choice. She had to move out. Our first cat had decided that she was the perfect squeaky toy. This poor little being was falling apart, collapsing under the feline version of post traumatic stress disorder, as cat #1 tried to chase the stuffing out of her every time she was bored. She is safe and happy now.
I love the first cat. She bonded with me the moment she walked in the door, and I would be hard pressed to put her out. The last cat is cute enough to make up for most of her hateful habits.
But the middle cat.
Daily he gives me new examples of why he is actually dumber than a bag of hammers. I have had some hammers, and even in bag-sized quantities, they only have ZERO intelligence.
This cat is well into the negative numbers.
- I have never seen a bag of hammers poke itself in the eye while rubbing up against my ankle.
- I have never seen a bag of hammers beg to be let outside, and upon arriving there take the mathematically minimum number of steps to get to the window to beg to be let back in. If 7 steps is the minimum distance to the window, he takes 6 steps to my window and commences to screaming.
- When I push him away from the door so that he won't get out (and make himself miserable) I use my foot. For the next 3 days, he will be afraid of my foot. Anywhere and everywhere in the house, he will flee from the foot of death. I have never seen a bag of hammers afraid of things that never wanted to hurt it.
- I have never seen a bag of hammers go 2 hours with no food in its dish, panic, get fed, eat until it pukes, and go back for more.
- And, I have never seen a bag of hammers fall off my lap for no reason.
But, Monday night he set a new standard.
He actually ran into the living room after eating too much food, and puked in my shoe. Well, actually he puked all over the shoe-rug, and I cleaned it up Monday morning. It was not until tonight that I found out he had deposited most of his treasure in my shoe, and yes, I found it out in Murphy's way.
("Why what?" you ask?)
Why is he sitting in my lap as I type this!