... properly introduced you to my beloved cat? No? I thought so!
Today, Ben and my brother in law, Alexander, picked up a beautiful 1930s divan (on which I will spend many hours reading - and which will also be perfect for photo purposes) for free. Now, my cat would not be a cat if he didn't took ownership of it immediately. Like all cats do; sniff, headbutt, and sleep on it. Ofcourse I grabbed my camera and took some shots, realising that one of the most important living creatures in my life has never been properly introduced to you, my readers. Ofcourse I mentioned him, but never introduced him. So let me introduce you to:
Figaro! Yes, he's been named after the cat in the 1940s Disney film Pinocchio. I am aware everyone thinks of their pets (and children) as a one of a kind, but Figaro certainly is. He's born in 2006 and that makes him 7 years old. I picked him up at a drugs house in Deventer (which was unbeknownst to me). He was extremely mellow, perhaps because of the drugs, and he smelled like weed for weeks. I must say that the owner of the litter Figaro was born in, was really good for the cats and kittens. They got their vaccinations and antiworm treatment. He was a tiny fellow with enormous saucer ears (my cat, not the man). When arrived at my home, Figaro tried to impress my dog constantly, by walking like a crab sideways with a high arched back, hissing and even spitting. He was not impressive at all, and the dog was the least impressed.
(Photo made by my sister in her room - how extremely adorable)
I have been living with cats almost my entire life, and all the cats we had before were female. As is known of female animals, they are not as affectionate as male animals; male animals are more mellow (with an exception here and there ofcourse). However, I have never experienced such an affecionate cat as little Figaro, even more so when he got neutered. He turned me into a catperson overnight. I have always been a dog person. In the 7 years that he's with me, he never scratched or bit anyone and he really never harmed a fly. Cats blink when they want to show you that they have good intentions, and when Figaro spots a fly, he's curious enough to go up to it and sniff at it, but he keeps blinking his eyes, wildly, as to say: I do not want to harm you. Suffice to say he's not a good hunter either.
Occupying the dog bed (the dog gave in and took the cat bed), together with my sister her cat Bo (short for Bojangles).
Figaro came into my life in a time which was very hard for me; I suffered severe bouts of depression. Nothing gave me joy but my cat. He was always with me; wherever I went, he went with me. He comforted me and slept with me (on my belly) when I was bedridden. Sadly I was admitted to a clinic - an emergency admission - and I had to miss my cat for 3 weeks. That was unbearable and I kept a photo of him at my nightstand, all I talked about was my cat.
When I came home after those 3 weeks, the first thing I did was search for my cat and when he heard me, he ran up to me and jumped in my arms. I do not exaggerate; he stayed in my arms for 2 hours non stop and I hugged him almost to death. According to my mom, he barely ate when I was away from home.
He's a little special, you know ;-)
He almost always sleeps like this. When a cat shows you his belly, it means that they trust you.
Before I moved to Zutphen, Figaro was an outdoor cat. Unfortunately that is not without any danger and he got poisoned by some imbecile of whom I sadly still do not know who it is. If I did, I probably would have ended up in jail. He barely survived and his tongue was rotting away due to the poison. I was in time, luckily, and he lived.
Then came the time that I moved out of my mothers house, and I was in heavy doubt if I would take him with me to Zutphen, where he obviously could not enjoy an outdoor life anymore - even though he never really was an outdoor cat. He prefered to stay inside, with me. I really couldn't miss him, but at the other hand he would have to miss the other three cats if he went with me. I took the chance just to try and took him with me. I didn't want to be selfish, so I said to myself that if he could not adapt to his new home, I would bring him back to my mothers house. Figaro was the lowest in rank of all the cats we had there (our female cat, a white X siamese dominated the house - as women often do), and luckily he adapted really well and even grew stronger and heavier. He was always a very slim cat who tended to be underweight. He really flourished in his new home. I couldn't be more happier. He still recognizes my mother and sister when they come to visit and he's delighted when they are here; affectionately headbutting them as only he can. That's so sweet.
Like I told you, he's really affectionate - even for the bar of an oven. When he's in one of his affectionate moods, he grabs your hand with both his paws, wraps himself around it, and headbutts it heavily. Purring really (I mean REALLY) loud.
I wouldn't know what to do without him and I hope he will grow really old. He means the world to me and he really is my baby. According to Ben, when I am not at home, he searched the whole house for me, meowing with his soft voice until I come home. When I do, he sprints towards me with his tail high (cats do this when they say hello to you), meowing and following me everywhere, reaching his little paw to me to ask attention and to show his affection. Ohhh, what would I do without him! He's my everything.
Occupying the divan and the free 1930s blanket we got with it. The divan is not even properly installed yet, but he doesn't care. (Look at his funny tail, he almost always has it curled like this)
Not only the divan, but also the laundry basket is occupied by him.
Isn't he beautiful?