Since three out of the five people reading this have never seen/heard of my two cats, allow me to provide a little backstory.
In 2000, when my husband came into my life, he decided to truely make us a domesticated couple and get some cats. I came home from work one day to see him laying on his side next to the couch cooing to some unknown entity underneith it. I thought he'd gone loco, but when I joined him down there I saw two little puffs of fur staring intently back at me. There was a little gangly black one, and a little grey tabby one. Since he was told simply that they were 'littermates' we assumed they were both boys and named them Devon and Buh-buh (after our favourite wrestling team, the Dudley boys). I soon realized that Buh-buh was either a very efeminate gay kitty, or he was a she. Her getting impregnated by her own brother was pretty much the clincher on that debate.
So, as we awaited our inbred, no chinned kitties, we discussed keeping one to make the family complete. We fixed Devon in the interim to prevent any future incest. Whenthe kittens finally came, there was a little black one (like dadda), a little grey one (like momma), and a fat little orange hampster looking one (like satan). We found homes for the parental dopplegangers, and kept the hampster, who was quickly named Chunk due to his copius amount of fur and pudgy paws. Buh-buh apparently couldn't handle her teenage pregnancy, and went ferrel. When we finally made the decision to take her to a shelter, I was devastated. Until, that is, she somehow got the cat carrier we put her into to practically levitate with all her fighting.
Now, we have Chunk and Devon.
Devon finally outgrew his awkward teenage phase and is now just a pretty sleek, black kitty with mental problems. Seriously, this cat is DUMB. He staes at walls for long periods of time, or the floor. He falls off the side of the couch all the time. He got lost inside the bathroom a few times. I've actually seen him trip over his own two front feet. He has an obsessive lust for plastic, and will lick, chew, and finally mummify himself within any lastic bag we leave on the floor, purring his stupid little head off blissfully. He also likes to climb into boxes, though he never figures out how to get back out. We'll see his back legs flailing on his way in, then an ear poking out while he meows miserably because he is stuck. You know how cats usually have that very prim posture as they sit, with both front legs tightly together in perfect poise? Not this retard. He sits with both legs splayed out like he's either drunk or afraid the ground will suddenly throw him off balance. Seriously, this cat needs a helmet and a littel bus kitty carrier.
Chunk, however, is a little asshole. Since Daddy was fixed before he was born, he quickly became the 'alpha male' of our house before we finally got him snipped. He wanders around, belly swinging, with this haughty "I am the shiznit" look on his face. Back before he got fixed, he would boss Devond around with gusto. He used to do this weird pissed off snippy meow at Devon any time we were cuddling, like he was chewing him out for associating with humans. The fuzzball quickly became a butterball, edspite the fact that we don't feed them treats or anything. He weighs 15 pounds, and if he lands on you jumping into bed, you'll be the recipient of the heimlich maneuver. He's a total spaz, too. We take great pleasure in watching him walk by, twitching a nearby foot, and watching him fly three feet in the air. Despite his ability to hover when scared, though, he has trouble jumping up on things due to his size. The recent addition of babygates in our appartment have become the bane of his overweight existence. And then there was last night's bed folly. I heard him approach the bed, leap, and somehow get shorted. He struggled madly on the edge of the comforter before landing with a resounding PLOMP on the floor. Dejected, he wandered off meowing in a very miffed tone.
So these are the bastards we live with. They'll always be our first kids. And they know it!
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