Tuesday, September 16, 2008

I'm calling you "Stinky"

Crowley, aka Gorbacat (no, seriously, he looks like Gorbachev), has a few disconcerting habits and a particular affinity for stench. His breath stinks, his butt used to reek like a dead alligator in a cesspool, and he likes to share his stink. When he has a bath, not only do the soggy slurping sounds echo through the room, but the stench follows. How he isn't a walking blob of stink is beyond me.

Anyhow, he's discovered a new source of stink: Daddy's shoes. The Import will get home from work and take his shoes off. Half a second later, Crowley's hunched over them and has his face in one to the neck. I'm not stupid enough to actually want to smell Daddy's feet (especially since he can never find where I put the socks), but if Crowley likes it, they've got to be pretty ripe. I pity the beauty tech who someday gives him a pedicure.

Is it just my cats, or are everyone else's cats crazy? (I can't even go to the bathroom without Baby deciding she's got a captive audience and all the pettins she can take.)


  1. LMAO. Yeah, my cats are nuts, too. Ariel loves the toilet and shower -- likes to pounce in them if the lid is up or someone's in the shower. We've learned to keep lids closed and doors shut. And Sebastian likes to run on the treadmill -- go figure 'cus he's like the fattest cat evah.

  2. Oh, hell. At least Baby stays out of the toilet. Crowley, btw, might give Sebastian a figurative run for his money. Last week, I clocked the ball of lard at 17.5 pounds. I'm ready to write Goodyear on his side.

    Aldous likes the treadmill, too. He sits on it, then looks stunned when it starts moving and he stops somewhere he wasn't before. Then, because he's smrt (not a typo), he goes back and does it again. Several times.