I am going to spin you a yarn. This is a tale of a fat cat. One large, furry, longhaired fat cat. He wasn’t originally my cat, in fact, he wasn’t originally part of the family. We got him a few years ago because a coworker of my moms came home one day to find her cat inside the dog’s mouth. Of course, my mother being the softie she is, couldn’t let this cat live in a house like that so she offered to adopt the cat. And then, he was brought to our house. He became part of the family.
Me being me, I asked if I could be the one to name him. After some thought, I decided to name him after the Norse trickster god. And this fuzz ball became Loki. Turns out, the name actually fit the cat. After a few days, my mom took me aside and told me that she started to agree with the dog. This cat was a terror. He was always getting into trouble, or causing trouble.
When I moved down to Maryland, I needed to borrow some money from my family. Part of the agreement with my mom was that I would take a cat. An interest free loan and all I would have to do is let a cat move in with me? Who could say no to that? So, after about a year of living in MD, I went up to NJ and brought down Loki. Turns out, the one thing all my parents other cats could agree on was not liking Loki. As soon as I took him home, they all started fighting amongst themselves.
Now, I honestly cannot imagine this house without the little man. He’s my bud, my pal, my confidant. When I am sitting at my hobbying table, working on either my blogs or my plastic men for gaming, he is usually there by my feet. When I lay on the couch to watch some Godzilla, he jumps on my chest and takes a nap. He wakes me up at 6 am feeding, and then joins me back in bed when he is full. I’m sure he would be happier without the extra guests I have at the moment, but that is a story for another time.