RE: This is fucking Steem man! And we're fucking Steemians!
You lost your kitty! Sorry for your loss, and shaking my head in recognition of the love/hate relationship - how many time do we threaten (but never act on it!) the cat who bites legs (but not too hard) and wakens the Slave to get breakfast going. I issue daily death threats against Bobi the Bad, who is the loudest, most persistent complainer in the cat kingdom, and I swear I won't shed a tear when he departs this world at last, but look at my newsfeed... all the Bobi posts.... yeah. He's here, and he's part of my world, for better or worse, and when he's gone, I will think of him daily, and possibly even... miss that cat.
Judging by the number of F-words, that cat must have had quite a hold over you. Words of sympathy are worth even less than my 1-cent upvote, and I'm at 80% "Power" for the next 21 hours. Powers. Sheesh.
Party on @geekpowered!
Well, my cat was actually really well behaved. He would often "attack" without claws, just for the fun of it, grabbing your leg as you passed by, then jumping off and running away. When he "bit" to wake you up in the morning, it was just enough that you felt it, but didn't really hurt that bad. Worst was when you were playing with him, and he'd get a bit carried away. He listened more than any other cat I have had. Sure, he didn't always listen when I called, but most cats ignore you.
My old cat from years ago was a lot better at trying to keep his claws in, because he was REALLY dangerous, and he knew it, but Kai actually listens, and doesn't bite the fuck out of you because you aren't awake at 5 AM.
Yeah, and sorry, my language is pretty bad, especially when I'm upset.
Your ginger tom reminds me of my glorious old barn cat, Tommy the ginger tom.... He'd perch on my shoulder and dig, dig, dig, puncturing my shoulder and back with his marvelous mouse-killer paws. Such enormous paws, that old ginger tom. The affectionate "clawing" was never unwelcome, and no other cat has taken Tommy's place, just as you have yet to find a cat who's a good listener, and I will never find another Maine Coon like Merlin, the court jester, the clown, who posed as a fierce, wicked looking lion, scaring off everyone but me when I saw him caged at the pound (yep, there for three months, like Bobi was, passed over, because he looked so surly and wicked).
Perhaps someday I will mourn the untimely demise of Bobinski the Big Mouth. That loud, demanding little tyrant! In. Out. In. Out. Oh, and wake up at 5 a.m. to turn on the faucet. He only drinks from a faucet. I hate you Bob! is the one phrase I utter most often, these days.
You'll come to know and love other cats, as will I, as soon as the Bobster dies and we are free to adopt another cat. Bob the Brat persecuted Merlin so relentlessly, we had to rehome my beloved Maine Coone.
Die, Bobi, die!