Between Zombie Dragons and Zorro

Z is a hard letter. Then it was pointed out to me that Kelly Stone Gamble mentioned zombie dragons on her guest post 'WANTED: An Editor Who Wants Me', and I do so love a good dragon. But on reflection, I felt Z was an opportunity to talk about Zorro. Sorry, not the Antonio Banderas sort, but my cat. 

Yes, I named my cat Zorro. He’s a funny thing, worth a chuckle, if only to stave off the homicidal thoughts the cat otherwise provokes. Is there a word for the urge to want to murder a cat? Catacidal? Yeah, I know, killing a cat isn’t murder, it’s just animal cruelty, and as much as my cat drives me insane, that’s never going to happen. 

We named the cat Zorro because he looks like he’s wearing a little Zorro mask. Unfortunately, the name turned out to be more hopeful than prophetic, because apart from the fact he’s a tiny little cat who thinks he can take on cats three times his size, he’s a complete wuss. A sissy. Even, dare I say, a pussy. 

I sometimes wonder if the cat has psychological issues. He came to me as a 4 week old kitten, and he’s bonded to me and only to me. You may have come across the saying ‘dogs have masters, cats have slaves’? In this case, I think he thinks I’m his god and he’s the kind of worshipper who thinks I am at his beck and call. Not only should I pet him, feed him, sit down so he can sit on my lap, and go to bed so he can curl up on me, but I must make the rain stop. 

And that’s a wee bit difficult. Unfortunately, shouting at the cat ‘I can’t make it stop raining’ does not make him stop following me around and crying. He has a penetrating voice. 

He also thinks I should get up to feed him, but that became less of an issue since we had a child, because he still sleeps later than she does. 

So, basically, the cat cries persistently, has to be on me or touching me nearly all the time, and doesn’t like anyone except me, none of which are particularly endearing qualities – nor are they conducive to writing, although I note it’s the fat cat that wants to be on me when I’m writing which, as it were, is a bigger problem. 

Oh, and wait, there he goes… it must be past my bed-time. Would you look at that? An alarm clock that tells you when to go to bed. And it has no snooze button. I’ll see you all tomorrow…

Zorro as a tiny, tiny kitten

So the cat decided I needed to be woken at 4:45am on my child-free night. Typical. He does this sometimes – decide he wants a pat and I should be woken up to give him one. It used to be 2am he did it, but fortunately he’s fallen out of this habit now. 

The worst thing about the cat is if you raise your voice to him, or lord, throw something at him (socks, OK, only socks – you listen to the cat yowl after you’ve spent an hour getting a crying baby back to sleep and see what you do!), if you do either of these things, he gives you such a look of reproach and slinks away belly to the ground you instantly feel like the worst in the world. It’s like kicking puppies.

So is there anything to redeem this cat? 

• He likes to be picked up and held like a baby, on his back, belly up. So cute!
• He comes in on weekend mornings when I’m giving my daughter her morning cuddles. He curls up in the other arm, and lets me cuddle him just like a child (or a child with a cuddle toy!). Not many cats do that.
• He lets my 2-year-old daughter pat him and pull his fur and shout in his face - just to be near to me.

So he has some redeeming qualities. And it’s not his fault he is the way he is, I’m sure it has to do with his life before he came to me. 

 

I just have to remind myself when he’s especially annoying that it’s just because I saved him and I wouldn’t change a thing. 

No longer so tiny, but not as big as Leela, who has gotten bigger since this photo

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This is part of the A to Z Blogging Challenge Series. If you missed the previous posts, you can find them here - A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P , Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X and Y.

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