My Fiftieth Post

I made it to 50 posts on my blog.

I made a mention in my post about Michael Vick that I loved dogs. This is true. But I am not one of those "dog people" who love dogs exclusively and hates cats. Anyone who knows me pretty well knows I'm more of an animal person; that I like to play with any animal that'll play...hell, my friend Shannon even used to have a raccoon that loved to roughhouse. If you get a chance to play with a half-domestic raccoon, holy crap, drop what you're doing and have some fun, those guys are a blast.

I have a cat; his name is Tuxedo; he was a shelter rescue as a kitten; he is currently whining for dinner. He is easily the smartest cat I've been around for any extended period of time. I was reading a "how smart is your cat" survey, and one of the questions was "does your cat hide its toys?"

Tuxedo doesn't hide any of his damn toys. Tuxedo is still the smartest cat I've dealt with. He's a schemer, a liar, and a manipulator. If I feed him breakfast early, while Corrie sleeps, and leave for work, he'll convince Corrie he hasn't eaten yet, and get another breakfast. Other times, he'll lull us into a false sense of security, acting cute and docile, so when we leave a room, he'll be on our food in seconds.

He does get disciplined, but he's figured out that the punishment is not that bad, and worth getting an extra helping of chicken, or pizza, or dahl, or aloo gobi, or whatever the hell else we're eating. Most of his schemes have to do with food. This cat eats like any dog, scarfing up food and often choking on parts, coughing it up, and getting right back to the scarfing.

Plus, he's huge. He's lost weight, and he's probably at a correct weight, between 10 and 12 pounds, but I measured him once: 36 inches from nose to tail, and when he sits he's 18 inches from shoulder to ground.

But he's fun, and beautiful. And I really do love the fuzzy bastard. Here's a picture. Thanks for keeping up with my blog everybody, all of you who do; I appreciate it.