I haven’t posted much about our kitten, Florian, because a) I don’t post that much, period (I got bills to pay, son) and b) of the many things on my bucket list, “Morph into a cat blogger” is not one of them. Other peoples’ cats are, I think, even less interesting than other peoples’ kids. But if we’re going to start stacking uninteresting things against each other, the internet will fold in on itself. (Read: there’s a lot of subjective joy to be had here. Find what you like and ignore the rest.)
I have to say, though, that this kitten is remarkably goofy. I don’t know if that’s common of all kittens or if he spent his brief time in the shelter huffing glue. He sleeps on my neck. He attacks his own tail. He tries to kill his dry cat food. He randomly starts fights with Greedo, who regularly sports an expression of withered annoyance when interacting with his younger brother. He gets his nose all up in Greedo’s butt, then emerges with this disgusted snarl on his face, like he can’t believe someone’s anus can smell so bad.
Florian regularly acts like such a fool, we’ve started calling him Derp, as in:
He’s just not clear on what his killer instincts are telling him to do, which results in the tail-chasing and the dry-cat-food-killing. He’s also not sure what the hell to do about sunlight. It creeps into the house at weird angles through the windows and then it just SITS there, which just bugs him out. He reminds me so much of Simple Dog from Hyperbole and a Half.
Recently, he noticed that there are little motes of dust that float in through the beams of sunlight and this has pissed him off greatly. His quest to KILL ALL THE DUST has had some unfortunate results, like this morning when he attempted to jump on top of our dresser, only to not quite make it high enough. He bounced off of the dresser, which sent him backwards. He grabbed a few of my necklaces and earrings to keep him company on the way down.
This is him this morning, sizing up the sun and the dust before retreating, at which point his tail scares the shit out of him. The glance at my slovenly bedroom is a bonus.