Tuesday, July 19, 2016

The Perfect Man, the Perfect Beast

Percy may actually be the perfect man.

True, he is the smelliest, stinkiest, nastiest little cat ever to grace Wyoming with his presence, but then most men I've met tend to have some kind of an odor issue.  Let's face it, males are just smellier.  This is why male dogs scent mark, male cats eject their anal sacs on things, and most male humans are stinkier when they sweat (creative tip: apple cider vinegar and lemon juice are actually very good at fending off the stinkies under the arms), or do anything else which I will not mention here.

Percy is a good little man, though.  I compare him to Sergio, Agent Emily Prentiss' cat on Criminal Minds.  When she finally got tired of being alone with no male prospects, she adopted a little black cat that she described as "a love," and that's Percy.  He might stink sometimes, but he does bathe religiously, he keeps himself up with constant exercise, and he eats healthy.  He also doesn't come home torn to shreds after a long night of caterwauling and fighting other toms.  He stays in every night and cuddles with me on the bed.   Percy is extremely emotionally available.  Out of all the emotionally unavailable bozos I've dragged home over the years, I can honestly say that Percy wears his heart on his sleeve. He just gives it away for free.

Percy chose me at the animal shelter.  I had my criteria: black, female, youngish but not a kitten. Percy made the final choice, and when he did, I didn't even worry about the fact that he is a male. I don't have anything against male animals in general, but in the past I just never cared to own them. Male dogs can be super disgusting, raising their legs to pee on everything, eating their own poop, rolling in dead stuff.  I'm not saying female dogs never do this (Tess does raise her leg to mark things like she is some kind of alpha male), but the male dogs I've owned have been worse about it than the females.  They also roam.  My first shepherd rolled in dead stuff as well as deer poop and garbage. If he got loose, he didn't come home for hours.  Once he ate an entire dead animal and barfed it up all over the floor in our foyer.  My mother went to the bathroom and got sick herself, and I had to clean it up.  I think the mentality there was that I already worked at an animal shelter shoveling shit, so why not clean up dead animal too? It was so disgusting, it took an hour, two plastic bags, and a whole roll of paper towels.  Tess, in contrast, has never eaten anything dead, she doesn't roll in stuff, and the most disgusting thing she does is bring her poop up onto the porch when I've let a week go by without cleaning the yard.  That's just her way of letting me know that the yard is getting nasty and it's time to clean it.  So really, her one nasty habit is actually a way of keeping things clean.

Percy is all things gross and more, and had he not chosen me at the animal shelter I probably wouldn't have adopted him.  That was then and this is now.  I no longer have an aversion to owning male animals.  I've met several over the years I would have adopted - Woodrow comes to mind if he's ever available - had I not already burdened myself with the Needy Quartet from Hell.  Percy remains the one and only male in my house.  He has outlasted all boyfriends and has proven to be better company than most of them.  He is handsome and he knows it.  I abhor narcissism in men, but in a cat it's pretty cute. I have always gravitated towards black animals, especially black cats.  I have wanted one for years.  Percy is a particularly good looking black cat.  He resembles a small black panther and he has beautiful green eyes.  His coat always shines and one can see his muscles moving through the fur.  His little fangs are still my favorite feature on him.  They give him a sabertoothed tiger look.  He actually looks quite fearsome until one pets him, and then he's just one big lovebug.  Percy prefers a night of cuddling and watching TV over running around town.  He always eats what is put in front of him. He never criticizes, though he does talk back sometimes.  We've had a few morning arguments where he squalls loudly, I yell shut up, and then he goes "Mrmph, mraow, mrrfff..."

Almost like he's telling me to fuck off.

But then, what relationship would be complete without mini spats?  We are always cuddling again ten minutes later.  He has the loudest motor of any cat and his favorite thing to do when I have him in my arms is to stare around the room, then fling his head backwards and rub the top of it against my chin.  He's very dramatic about it too, like he's flaunting the fact that I am his human.  When I first got Percy, it was just him and Tess and he would often get up on the couch with me while I watched a movie and curl lengthwise against my body, almost like spooning.  He doesn't do this so much anymore since he's too busy bullying Willow, wrestling with Puckett, or annoying Tess, but he still likes to get on the bed and be my snuggle bunny.  He also sits next to me on the couch while I eat my lunch.  He doesn't get into my lunch because sharing food with Percy is a bad idea given his Irritable Bowel Syndrome, but he keeps me company while I eat.

As cute and cuddly as he is, Percy is still a man.  He still makes a mess in the bathroom.  He still has stinky moments.  He has some nasty gas, bad enough on occasion to roust the dog from the room, and he has a habit of leaving stuff lying around on the floor, either his toys, or some random object of mine that he's deemed his new toy.  The equivalent to leaving socks lying around, I suppose.  He doesn't help with the dishes or the vacuuming.  He prefers to create the mess that needs vacuuming.  He does, however, like to be vacuumed.  When I get the vacuum out, the other two cats flee, Tess barks and runs into the backyard, and Percy emerges from wherever he was sitting and sits by the vacuum cleaner ready to have his tail sucked up.

Percy is not a jealous kitty.  He has enough love to go around for everyone, though he is happiest as the center of attention.  He might not bring me breakfast in bed, but he does like to snuggle on weekend mornings while I have my coffee and read a book.  There have been many a snowy Sunday that Percy and I have spent all morning in bed watching Netflix.  I can't say this for any of my ex boyfriends.  They would leap out of bed first thing in the morning and rush off to work or whatever, anything more interesting than me. At least Percy likes to spend time with me.

The other night I left a pretty great party to walk home by myself after a night of dancing with some very eligible bachelors.  Most of the time I prefer just going out with my girlfriends, dancing with everyone, and not gathering any phone numbers or looking to pick up any more potential dates.  Sometimes Cinderella doesn't care about the Prince, she just wants to dance until the carriage turns into a pumpkin and she has to walk home.  I didn't mind any of this.  I wasn't looking for a new Prince Charming, I didn't need a ride home (as I do prefer to walk sometimes), and I definitely didn't need a one night stand to take home for temporary company in my bed.  I was, however, feeling a bit overemotional though.  That night two of my very good friends found each other again.  They'd been over for a year, I thought she was gone for good, and had had a few conversations with him confirming this.  My delight was evident upon seeing her again, and seeing her with him.  They belong together and I've always felt that about them, even when he insisted that they were completely over.  So why was I being so overemotional?  Because it's nice to see true love find its way back even when everything looks completely hopeless.  I don't have anyone like that yet.  The guy I thought was the love of my life is someone I would never welcome reappearing on my doorstep after a year or more of separation.  Most likely I'd call the police if he did try that.  I don't have any long lost love I would be thrilled to reconnect with.  It was just one of those nights, I think, where I realized how alone I am and I was feeling it keenly.  I think we all feel that way at times, triggered by something as simple as a word or a glance or anything else entirely innocent.

But I did get home to my little man who was anxious to see me and purring up a storm when I walked through the door with tears still on my cheeks.  True, he was hungry and that was the main reason for his attention, but as I picked him up and snuggled him, I was glad for at least one man in my life who is always there, who keeps the bed warm and gives amazing cuddles, and who, despite his few faults, is still the most perfect little male.  I love my boy, and just like Agent Prentiss, if some crazy hit man from my past ever comes gunning for me, I'm okay with leaving everything in my apartment behind, but I will be packing him (and the other animals) into the kitty carrier and taking him with me, no mater what.

People have offered to take Percy off my hands, but there is no way I'll ever part with him. Out of all my pets he's considered the "cool one" by others.  I never thought one of my crazy little beasts would be so coveted by other people, but it does put things in perspective. People may not envy much else about me, but they do envy me my cat.

At least he chose me.

Percy likes to play Hide and Seek

He also appreciates Victoria's Secret

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