The Never Ending Search for Self

I have a cat called Tristan.*

I knew I wanted boy cats when I’d decided I was ready to have cats again.  The two  I’d had before Tristan and Beau were girls and were — as is often the case with girl cats — extremely aloof.  They liked me fine, but they weren’t so interested in having anything to do with me, only wanted my petting in small doses from time to time.  Boy cats are usually quite needy.  (This is a trait I like in male cats far more than in male humans. Just saying.)  So I chose boys … and for nearly seven years I’ve been living with two super needy kitten-men who want as much of my time as they can get, who are jealous if I spend an extra second of time with one over the other, who cannot bear to have me spend any time with a pen in hand or a computer on my lap, who want to sleep all over me (including in my face, which means I wake up having an allergy attack at least once a week) …

But never mind all of that.  Today is about Tristan.  My half-mustache boy is quite the sweetheart.  He got his name almost immediately.  While it took me almost two weeks to name Beau, Tristan was Tristan within an hour of entering my house.  He walked toward me as he was exploring the apartment and … that was just the name that fit.  He’s long and tall and a true scaredy cat who hides at every ring of the doorbell.  His favorite places to sleep are a) draped over my legs, b) as close to my nose as possible, and c) curled in a ball in the curve of my body when I sleep curled on my side.  He doesn’t like to be held, but he kind of does, too.  He loves to have his stomach rubbed.  He is happy to sit on my lap and have me cuddle him, but only if I don’t try to multitask and clip his nails at the same time!  He has a crazy death-wish, actively trying to get himself squished by placing himself in front of and under my feet any time I try to move.

In the mornings, he likes to sit on top of the toilet while I brush and floss and take care of my morning routine.  He, too, has a routine, and it never fails to stop me in the middle of whatever I’m doing and crack me up.  He jumps up on the commode and turns around and around to find just the right spot to sit (which is almost always the spot where he started). He sits and looks up at me for a minute then out into the hall for signs of his brother.  Then his attention is suddenly caught by … yes, it’s that terrible, wicked villain who teases and eludes him every morning!  He leaps into pursuit, jumping and turning again and again, almost capturing, almost ensnaring, always just missing … his. tail.

My silly-sweet cat has not outgrown chasing his tail.  And I mean serious, full-on, break-neck chasing.  This boy is determined!

And once I’ve had my good morning laugh, it’s time for me to shoo him from the room so I can get myself ready in peace.

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* That’s an upside down bit of my other cat, Beau, in the background. I’ve written about him before, so it’s Tristan’s turn. Tristan and Beau are brothers from a rescue litter of mostly grey and white, mostly short hair, mostly male cats.  There was one female, and there were two long hairs.  Nature is so interesting.