monkey business

I guess you could call me impatient. Maybe even greedy. Or a little crazy? While I still very much want to adopt Bali, who waits for me in Mission Viejo, yesterday I drove out to Visalia and picked myself up a Monkey cat. Monkey is (though you can't really tell in this picture) polydactyl, which automatically makes him super cool. I am a big fan of benign deformity. This is something I apparently share with Ernest Hemingway and my Uncle Norm (both keepers of polydactyl felines). In addition to being a freak of nature, Monkey is also a kitten (5 months old) so he's irresistibly sweet. He has already displayed supervisorial tendencies (meaning he's trying his hardest to get stepped on and wants to see inside of everything). But best of all, he has willingly submitted to the dreaded Under the Covers Snuggle that Fabe would sometimes do, but even Blackers would shun. He's a regular snuggle savant. In fact, he seems to appreciate that Erik and I sleep on opposite schedules so there's almost always someone in the bed to cuddle. Another thing you can't see in the picture (besides the fact that he's difficult to photograph cuz he seldom sits still)? Monkey is prone to pass gas. Not his finest feature, I assure you, but I'm hoping it's just cuz he's been sneaking bites of the grown up food.

At first I didn't think I'd get Monkey, as I failed to lie on the application about the indoor only part. But it turns out they hadn't even looked at my app and if they had, they wouldn't care. The wonderful woman who was raising him had at least 20 other foster cats, 13 foster dogs, and even 3 foster humans (teenaged boys). She was so ready to lighten her load she was even willing to let me leave with two for the price of one. (I resisted.) Besides, even she doesn't object to outside kitties on principle. She just can't let her animals out cuz her neighbors own cat eating pit bulls.

Anyway, I've decided the indoor only part isn't necessarily a lie, at least not for a good long bit. While I will continue to let OC roam, I have ordered a locking cat door so that he can get in but Monkey (and hopefully Bali) can't get out. I'm thinking if Blackers' little pecan of a brain told him to run in front of a car, what will Monkey do with a partial pecan? OC, on the other hand, is an established outdoorsman and has little other joy in life besides hunting (which, regrettably, he just finished - I found him consuming an already headless hummingbird in the backyard...) and apparently eating grass (some of which is currently hanging out of his butt... I'm hoping this is a good sign - that things are "moving down there," as my mom might say - not a bad sign - as his August enema was distinctly dominated by grass...). OC's condition reminds me of this hilarious illustration I came across while bloghopping. I remember seeing Fabe in exactly the same predicament once...

Though he didn't realize it at first, Monkey is Erik's cat. Erik was rooting for him over Bali. Perhaps that's why when I asked if I could have both, Erik said yes? Anyway, both is always the right answer in my book (that's right up there with my "Food is Love" theory...) but I'm not sure what OC will think of the gang of black hoodlums I'm slowly filtering into his home. Monkey is not, however, so exclusively Erik's that I will allow Erik to change his name to Mittens. Seriously, Mittens? Monkey, which is his given name, is so superior. It lends itself to the Mon-chi-chi song ("Mon-key-key Mon-key-key, oh so soft and snuggly...") and it makes us think of our favorite character from Dexter's Laboratory so we are constantly complaining in a German accent that he "will never be anything more than a mere Monkey..." We've also decided that OC is too old to be Monkey's brother so we're calling him Monkey's uncle. Get it? OC is a Monkey's uncle...

Now Bali, on the other hand, may get a new name along with his new home. If he really is a mix of Blackers and Fabe, I'm thinking I may call him Monster to match his personality. There is already evidence that this may be the case - one of his three photos on Petfinder shows him biting another cat he has clenched in a head lock... I wish I didn't love him so, for I see that Monkey and OC will eventually get along fine but there's no telling what a third cat will do to the mix. (I've prepared for the worst and picked up a gallon of Nature's Miracle...) I also wish his foster mom would be more forthcoming with her approval of my application. I know she is busy but I am anxious. Though it is good to let Monkey get settled in...

Besides, based upon his grassy ass accessory, I may be busy the next few days dealing with OC. I took him to the vet on Friday due to his "condition suspect" status. They administered the standard humiliation only to discover that the bulge which normally indicates impactedness was actually made from swollenness. So now OC is on steroids to reduce the inflammation. I'm not sure what this means for poor OC. Is this a new torture he'll mix in with the old? Is it causal? Coincidental? Likely to recur or totally random? I do know I feel great appreciation towards my vet who has been giving me some major deals - sort of a volume discount, I guess, or a frequent flyer program... And I also feel major affection towards OC, as he is such a trooper.

Perhaps, though, this added uncertainty is part of why I feel the need to get two cats to replace one? Do I secretly see the writing on the wall? I sure hope not. I figure I am just doing what I did when Fabe died - replacing one cat with two. And three cats does not a crazy cat lady make. Three is the new two, I've decided. And the blackies are both young so they can enjoy each other while OC mellows about and licks his butt... Or so I am telling myself.

And in case you were wondering, all this black snuggliness serves as a wonderful distraction, but I am keenly aware of the fact that tonight is the two week sadiversary of Blackers' death. I only take solace in knowing that he would definitely want me to adopt at least one more cat as the last thing he would want is to see OC happy... Oh, and he does look super sleek in his fancy marble urn. I framed this super cool shot of him from his living and breathing days to sit beside it on my desk so I don't have to think of him as a pile of ashes or a sprawling blood stain. Now he is forever peering down on me from atop the fridge - a spot that even with his new top cat status OC has not assumed as his own.