My cat has decided that as an alternative to his flesh biting tendencies to get me out of bed that he has now moved his focus to my nightstand. If face batting and nose biting only makes me turn over and pull a sheet over my head to avoid him, he will start swiping things off my nightstand. I’ll turn over to see him with his backside facing me, peering over his shoulder as he paws a pen, and when he thinks I’m ignoring him again: swipe.
By the end of the morning, pens, medication, journal, eyeglasses, and cell phone will inevitably make it to the floor. Each time, of course, I react: “Mimo!” and he proceeds happily, grateful there are so many things on the nightstand to throw around. I try to get out of bed and open the door to let him out before he knocks over a glass of water or the lamp, but on some occasions he succeeds.
I have a few books that were resting on the floor with slightly waterlogged covers. My parents’ bedroom is right below mine and I’m sure they think I’ve fallen out of bed when the lamp hits the floor. Now, they know better, with my mischievous cat.
I am convinced he has learned these newfound skills from the other family cats. When he was living in my apartment and holding down the fort when I went to work or did errands, nary an item would be out of place upon my return. I was convinced I could leave something like a whole roast chicken out on top of my microwave and he wouldn’t notice. Once, I left a bag of dry cat food on my kitchen table, and later, I found the pellets all over my floor and the bag with telltale teeth marks. However, this was the extent of his mischievous nature and I knew to keep his dry food away from view.
I recall him wanting to sleep close to me in my apartment, but these days he keeps his distance by sleeping on my desk or at the end of the bed. He is all too happy if I don’t bug him. Come morning, however, all bets are off as he climbs over my torso and settles down on my stomach and chest, facing me. It’s as if he is saying: “See, mama? I will know when you are getting up. Oh yes, please rub my head while you are staring at me quizzically” and offers his head to me. Sometimes he steps on my port on the right side of my chest, which is always tender, or the left part of my chest, where the mass (Death Star?) lives. After uttering an “ouch” or two, ultimately, it is me holding him down so that he settles or pushing him off my chest.
I have always had a cat around that was preoccupied with getting fed. If a cat didn’t bug me for food, I would be concerned that something was wrong with him or her. However, Mimo’s concern with my schedule is a bit off-kilter. It’s plausible, in my mind, that he is a herding cat. Promptly around 9 at night, he hangs around me a bit more than in the earlier hours in the day. He waits for me to head upstairs so he can follow me and begin his sleeping ritual of bouncing between my desk and bed.
This cycle has only changed slightly post surgery. I told him prior to the surgery that he couldn’t step on me, especially with surgical bandages, bruising, and healing stitches. His blue eyes looked at me intently as if nodding. When I came home from the hospital, he was elated to see me, since I had been gone 2 days. He was bounding down the stairs and came to a screeching halt when our other cat Noki, a black female stray that I had adopted while in college, was waiting by the door.
My two “children” do not get along at all. In fact, Noki had presided over me while I was recovering from my gallbladder surgery a few years ago. As an example, when our elderly family cat Tiny Tim accidentally stepped on my stomach to hang out with me and I cried out in pain, Noki rushed into the room, scooted the old cat out and then went about her business. After eating or grooming, she would protectively sleep by my side to ensure this would not happen again. Even now, she takes her familial duties seriously.
Though now, Mimo has claimed me and it’s obviously just pissing her off. She does not hesitate to scream at him whenever he passes by and he gives this pitiful look like: what did I do? If you say “Mimo” to Noki while she is resting, she will lift her head up quickly and her eyes will narrow as she is looking around her. It seems that 5 months of living together has not helped their friendship. I suspect in the winter she’ll come around in order to warm herself in his alpaca-like fur.
Mimo is a fairly mellow cat despite his idiosyncrasies. One of the best reasons to have him around is that is fully supportive of my hobbies and activities. Working on the computer at my desk? He will sleep next to my laptop or sometimes even type for me (type is a relative term). Knitting? He will be there to catch a stray piece of yarn as needed (well, it's stray to him). This past weekend I dug out my jeweler’s saw frame and metal files to saw out and modify a piece of acrylic. I was sawing out a piece to replace the broken face of a vintage Michelin Bakelite tire pressure gauge for my dad and Mimo was there to be quality control (the photo evidence is above).
We might not always have the best understanding of each other, but he has been a good companion thus far.
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