So. I’m sitting here in my best friend’s apartment watching stupid silly Christmas movies like Christmas Vacation et al.  We’re doing the girl thing:  cheap bottle o’ red wine, a few cigarettes, her boyfriend has gone to bed to get away from us.  It’s Grrl Time.  I’m thankful for Grrl Time, but that’s not what this post is about, really.

Do any of you have furry friends?  You know…those things with four feet that do funny and annoying things that spike your life to make it worth living?  Yes, well, I have one, I call it my husband.  No, really, seriously…I was actually talking about our cats and/or dogs this time.

Mr Hank is 10 years old this year.  For Thanksgiving, we told all our guests to bring him a cheap cat toy or can of “wet food” (ala Fancy Feast or Friskey’s Select for some such) for dinner in lieu of a side dish because it was really “Hanksgiving” and we really had all the human food dishes covered.  As you can guess, he’s kinda spoiled.  But Oh…he is the sweetest cat, all 15 pounds of him and his little Mike-Tyson-Meow (those of you who have read any of my NaNoWriMo story, the character of Lix is based on Mr Hank).

Anyway…spoiled much, this Hank?  Yes…just a tiny bit.  But that’s okay because it never really is a problem.  Mostly, he just acts out sometimes in ways that are more cute than annoying.  Case in point, this picture:

Hank In Jade Plant, Dec 4, 2008

This is Mr Hank showing off.  He thinks it’s so very cute to defy Mommy Kirsten and Auntie Dy and dig down in a 10 year old jade plant…oh, it looks like it smells so good, doesn’t it?..while we yell at him to get out, BAAD KITTY!…etc.  I tried really hard not to laugh, but I had to take a picture, which fueled him on more.  This is the same cat that likes to have his picture taken in a grey coat and hat we gleaned from the Goodwill.  He’s a total ham.

So, that’s what I got today.  I’m thankful for Mr Hank. The cat that plays dice.  That begs for a cigarette and a glass of whiskey when we have it.  I swear he was a pimp in another life.  And now we get to cater to his every whim…well, mostly.  I’ll be damned if I’m gonna give him wet food when I come calling.  He is  Kirsten’s cat after all…I’m not “mommy”.  I have my own feline fiend to worry about!

© 2008 D. Kessler

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