I found a video from January when Chris had gotten into the cabinet above the refrigerator. Floki was determined to get in there too and almost fell in the attempt. This video was much longer but I cut the middle part out. That part was just Chris not wanting to come out so Floki could go in . . . and sit on the crock pot. I guess for a cat, that’s entertaining. I know it was for me.
Frankie loves to relax and let it all hang out.
When I started this blog I couldn’t decide what to name it. I had several names in mind, none of which I can remember now. I only remember that all of them were taken. I eventually settled on Crazy Cat Chris and registered it at WordPress.com.
Almost immediately I realized that I made a mistake. Chris was not a crazy cat. I think I just liked it because all the words started with C. I then choose Bad Cat Chris but the truth is, Chris is no more bad then he is crazy. The “bad” in Bad Cat Chris only refers to his behavior, not to Chris himself, and it really only refers to the human interpretation of the word “bad.” What is bad to a human is not necessarily bad to a cat. Like Shakespeare said, “there is no good or bad but thinking makes it so.”
The first several months after we adopted Chris, he kept us from getting a good night’s sleep by attacking our feet, biting our noses, treading on our bare skin and lying across our necks. BAD CAT! Indeed, the people who adopted him before us thought he was a bad cat and returned him to the shelter after one day.
Chris, November 2009
He no longer attacks feet and he has learned not to bite Rose’s nose but everything else is the same. Jumping on counters is another “bad” behavior that we were never able to correct. Nor were we able to stop him from opening cabinets and closets and getting inside. At eight years old he still tries to get out the door every chance he gets and he still scratches the furniture, but only when he knows someone is looking.
Despite his behavior, I wouldn’t want him to change because that is who Chris is. He has always been very entertaining and he makes us laugh. His bad behavior is not really bad, it’s more like naughty, and even that’s not right. He is just a non-human who is very good at not following human rules.
There is something special about Chris, more special than any other dog or cat I have ever had, and I have had some good ones. Chris is pure love. He loves me, he loves Rose he loves everyone who steps foot in our house and he is not afraid to show it. He bleeds affection. Everybody who knows Chris loves him back.
He is even affectionate to all the other cats, although he will fight with them too.
Rose worries that when we lose Chris I will be devastated and she may be right. I think about that more now that Chris will be turning eight. The last three of our cats that passed away, Abbey, Alex and Tigger, all died at eight years old. But, of course, now is not the time to be thinking such thoughts. We have a birthday coming up.
Back in January Chris posted a short parody of Adel’s “Hello” song on his Facebook page (see here). I decided to expand on it and rewrite it for Chris (although it could just as easily have been from Frankie). If you are unfamiliar with the song, click here to see it on YouTube.
Meow, it’s your cat
I was wondering if after all these days I could go outside
To eat some grass in the yard
They say that grass is supposed to heal ya
But I ain’t done much healing
Meow, can you hear me?
I’m at the door dreaming about when I was a kitten
When I was young and free
Before I was caged and sold for an adoption fee
It’s so different being inside
Like outside’s a million miles
Meow from the inside
I must have tried a thousand times
To tell you I don’t want to be stuck inside
But when I meow you never abide
Meow from the Inside
At least you can’t say I didn’t try
To tell you I need you to open the door
I just can’t be inside these four walls anymore
Meow, where are you?
It’s so typical of me to be here by myself I’m sorry
But it’s indoor Hell
If I ever make it out of here I will…
Wait, here you come to let me out
Just in the nick of time
So Meow from the outside
I’m so happy I could purr
And tell you I’m sorry for ever doubting you’d decide
To open the door and let me outside.
Meow from the outside
Persistence pays off if you try
To annoy with every beat of your heart
But don’t give up clearly you’re not an inside cat anymore
Meow from the outside
Why’d you leave my food inside?
of all the dumb things that you have done
I’m going to starve here outside
Meow from the outside
It’s time to let me back inside
To keep me from starving to death
I promise I won’t bother you again until I do…
What do you think?
I was looking through the archives and found this picture of Chris from a couple of days after we adopted him. He was still a kitten then at about six months old. In the picture, you can see Abbey, who was always good to Chris even though Chris annoyed her.
This Throwback Thursday post from 2014 isn’t much of a throwback because the same thing happens today except now we have Floki who is even worse than Puck.
Since the first day Chris entered our home, he has established himself as the alpha kitty in all areas except food, especially canned food. He likes the canned food and will eat it but doesn’t place a high value on it like our other cats (past and present) do.
Puck, however, was originally named “Chow Man” because of his love for food. Indeed, we named him Puck because, in part, he was into food as much as Wolfgang Puck.
I feed the cats wet food twice a day, in the morning, when I get up, and when I return from work, or around 5:00 on the weekends. The same thing happens every time. Puck and Frankie jump on the counter while I am opening the cans. Frankie then jumps back down to the floor where Chris is waiting. He knows that is where he is fed so he wants to be…
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It seems that almost every time I see Chris washing another cat, it ends in a fight. That is especially true when he washes Floki. I don’t understand how such a nice thing goes bad so often.
When Floki was a kitten we were able to clip his nails, barely. Since about three or four months ago, nail clipping has become an impossibility. Whenever we try, he becomes, for lack of a better word, the squirmiest cat on Earth. He twists and turns and kicks and screams and hisses until he breaks free. If none of those works, the extra long, sharp claws in flesh (mostly my flesh) does the trick. People tell us, “Get a towel and wrap him like a burrito.” It’s a wonderful theory but it does not work, at least not for Floki.
We tried many times over the last few months to clip his nails but we also didn’t try many times because I worried Floki would start to fear me. My job was to catch him and hold him while Rose’s job was to do the clipping. Since no clipping occurred, I was the only bad guy.
I decided to call our nearby vet to see what they charged. I figured getting him in a cat carrier would be much easier and it would also make them the bad guy, not me. They told me it would cost $12. I thought that was a bargain so I made an appointment for yesterday morning.
I was wrong about it being easier to get Floki into the carrier. It was a nightmare. As soon as Rose opened the door to the carrier, Frankie walked inside. I had to dump Frankie out first and then try to catch an already nervous Floki. That was made easier since we closed the patio door giving him no access to the house. I picked him up and tried to put him in the carrier but he spread out his arms and legs in his best Rocky the Squirrel imitation and I couldn’t get him inside.
I thought I would take the top off a put him in that way so I tried that. Rose picked him up and put him inside while I put the top down but I couldn’t hold him in long enough to secure the door.
I put the carrier back together but Frankie walked inside it again and I had to dump him out again.
I caught Floki and he grabbed onto my shoulder with his claws. I couldn’t pull him off for fear of losing a chunk of skin on my shoulder so I backed up against the cat tree and gave him somewhere to go.
I considered giving up and calling the vet but after one or two more tries we got him in the carrier. Then the crying started.
He cried all the way to the vet.
Once we were there and he saw other cats and the biggest Husky dog on the planet he became quiet.
We were never put in a room. Instead, someone came out and brought Floki to the back room. I told her she needed to put on a suit of armor and she just said, “We’re used to it.”
When she returned Floki I asked, “How did it go?”
She said he was fine.
What!? Are you freaking kidding me? Are we talking about the same cat? I didn’t say that but I thought it.
Later that evening we trimmed the nails of our other three cats with hardly an issue, even from Big Baby Chris. Frankie went UTB for a while but gave us little trouble when we did catch him.
Recently we had catnip party and, as happens sometimes at parties, things got a bit out of hand.
It’s bedtime and one of us has to throw the cats out of the bedroom. Even though the vote is always one to one, I somehow lose most of the time.
Would you want to tell them they have to go?
Bad Cat Chris 