When couples move in together and settle down, it’s often not long before they get themselves a little fur baby. Perhaps a cat, a dog or a rabbit? It doesn’t matter what the animal is, the new pet is essentially a surrogate baby; a test to see how you work as a team with a tiny being that you are now responsible for. Unfortunately for us, we got Denzel.
Denny den den den den den (as I like to call him) is a cat with ‘character’. I use the word ‘character’ in the same way that someone would call my children ‘spirited’ when they are being horrendous little monsters. Basically, the cat is a d**k.
I’m not making excuses for him, but he had a difficult upbringing. We adopted him from the RSPCA and the only known history was that he was a street cat. He curls up on your lap (aww, sweet) but will bite your hand WHILST STILL PURRING if he feels like it. He has issues.
People say ‘He’s not THAT bad. He’s really quite lovely’. That’s what he wants you to think. He lulls you into a false sense of security and before you know it you’ve got scratches up to your armpits. About two weeks after adopting him, my husband and I looked at each other. We knew that we were thinking the same thing. ‘I guess we can’t take him back to the RSPCA? I guess we’re stuck with him now?’ Yep.
To be fair, he has calmed down a lot from the first month we had him. He now knows that we are going to feed and cuddle him and throw the occasional ping pong ball to chase. We take a lot of photos of him including him sat next to the ‘snow cat’* that I made the last time it snowed, of him hiding in a box I had written ‘cat trap’ on and for Father’s Day I had a t-shirt made with a photo of him on to recreate a Carhartt t-shirt my husband already owned. (See below.)
If the tables were turned, he wouldn’t talk about me on Catbook and he certainly wouldn’t bother taking any pictures of my antics. He’s also not a big fan of my actual babies…but they flippin’ well LOVE him. If he wants to get my attention, or fancies another meal ‘just coz’, he will walk up to the girlies, stand, look at me and wait for me to react. They inevitably pat him on the head (bash him on the head) and stroke his fur (pull his tail). He then looks at me and I know he’s thinking ‘If you don’t give in to my demands, the babies get it’ (said in Mafioso voice). Evil cat.
Despite being a former street cat he has become incredibly fussy. Nowadays he is more of a princess than Elsa. (I’ve never actually watched ‘Frozen’. Got the distinct feeling that I will be forced to watch it many, many times in the future.) He is more difficult regarding his meals than the girlies. I think I may have now figured out the algorithm of acceptable meals. He no longer likes Whiskas or Felix. He will only eat gravy based meals, not jelly. Fish is only acceptable if it is fresh or tinned tuna, definitely not in cat food. He will not accept two meals of the same brand or flavour in the same day. Oh, and since the girlies arrived he now requires lunch.
I have tried not giving in to his demands, but then he looks at the girlies in the same way that a hungry cartoon character looks at a roast chicken. I then lose the will to fight and he gets his own way. He walks all over me – both metaphorically and literally. It is a big concern that, in a battle of wills, the cat always wins. If I can’t even control the cat, what on earth is going to happen when I am dealing with TWO ‘spirited’ toddlers???
*That he later peed on.