While someone's sister's cat is a total drama king, my orange cat, Eric, is the biggest baby. His nickname is "Infant." I took him in nine years ago when my neighbor moved and left hm behind because he could't afford to pay for Eric's treatment of an upper respiratory infection. I lived in a large apartment complex, and the neighbors felt he was better off with me, although they didn't have the courtesy to call me back after I told them Eric was sick. They claimed he was their cat, but didn't want to take care of him. Go figure.
Anyhow, Eric hated being an indoor cat at first. He'd get up on his hind legs, put his paws around the doorknob, and try to turn it so he could go outside. My vet deadpanned that I should keep the car keys away from Eric!
Once Eric was neutered (he'd lived as a stray cat for the first 2-1/2 years of his life; God knows how many kids he has), he settled down and came to enjoy being an indoor guy. He was 18 pounds of solid muscle when I met him -- he introduced himself to me two months after I moved into my apartment. Over the years, he got fatter, tipping the scales at 25 lbs. and scaring the Dish Network guys, who thought he was a tiger or jaguar of some sort. He went on a diet, and is now back to his svelte 18 lbs.
I admit I babied him. He had been neglected for 2-1/2 years, and I more than made up for it. My mom had to babysit him whenever I left the house because he'd sit at the front door and cry until I came home. No amount of food, attention or treats would placate him until mommy came home. I swear my other orange cat, Sarah, rolled her eyes in disbelief whenever her "brother" put on his "infant" routine.
Sarah was dumped at my former church when she was three months old. She will be 14 in May, and isn't as insecure and needy as Eric is. I taught Sarah from day one to sleep in a carrier, so she considers it her second bedroom, and snoozes in there every day.
But Eric is my little boy, even though he will be 12 in July. And he's my infant, too.
Anyhow, Eric hated being an indoor cat at first. He'd get up on his hind legs, put his paws around the doorknob, and try to turn it so he could go outside. My vet deadpanned that I should keep the car keys away from Eric!
Once Eric was neutered (he'd lived as a stray cat for the first 2-1/2 years of his life; God knows how many kids he has), he settled down and came to enjoy being an indoor guy. He was 18 pounds of solid muscle when I met him -- he introduced himself to me two months after I moved into my apartment. Over the years, he got fatter, tipping the scales at 25 lbs. and scaring the Dish Network guys, who thought he was a tiger or jaguar of some sort. He went on a diet, and is now back to his svelte 18 lbs.
I admit I babied him. He had been neglected for 2-1/2 years, and I more than made up for it. My mom had to babysit him whenever I left the house because he'd sit at the front door and cry until I came home. No amount of food, attention or treats would placate him until mommy came home. I swear my other orange cat, Sarah, rolled her eyes in disbelief whenever her "brother" put on his "infant" routine.
Sarah was dumped at my former church when she was three months old. She will be 14 in May, and isn't as insecure and needy as Eric is. I taught Sarah from day one to sleep in a carrier, so she considers it her second bedroom, and snoozes in there every day.
But Eric is my little boy, even though he will be 12 in July. And he's my infant, too.
