I adore your fuzzy butt, but sometimes you drive me crazy. Last week, you bit my face when I was cuddling with you, and we won't even to into your disgusting habit of eating too much, too fast, and then horking it all up under my bed.
Every night, at least once, I have to yell at you to get off my desk, where I don't want you messing things up. You regularly terrorize Millie, Bella and Duchess, and there was that one time you jumped your 15-pound tubby self on me while I was sleeping. That wasn't cool. And I still haven't gotten over what you did to my sofa. What, the scratching post isn't good enough for you?
But tonight, Harley Dude, tonight. You chewed through the cable on the computer speakers I bought a mere few weeks ago, rendering them useless right in the middle of my listening to Keane's new album.
I'm tempted to sell you to the lowest bidder, but here's the thing: despite your routine obnoxious behavior, I'm kinda-sorta in love with you. Just when I think I can stay mad long enough to make you sleep in the bathroom every night, you fall asleep on the pillow next to my head, with your legs stretched across me possessively and your face planted against my shoulder. You purr at me and give me that high-pitched squeaky meow that is so at odds with your Big Boy appearance.
There's just no getting rid of you. So I yell a little, steam a little, and then buy a new pair of speakers and get over it because when I adopted you, I also adopted every quirk and inconvenience that comes with bringing a pet into one's home--and I did it with eyes wide open. I can't imagine life without you and Millie (who, right now, looks like a total angel, I might add), even though I routinely find cat vomit under the bed, and routinely have to admonish you that night time is Mama's night-night time.
You are almost four years old; I had thought the kitten phase would be long finished by now but apparently you're not quite through with the craziness of feline youth. I suppose I can deal with the quirks, so long as you put up with me being cranky from time to time. You've got it good, Little Dude...but then, so do I.
Love,
Mommy
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| Day 1...when you were still skinny. |
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| "How YOU doin'?" |
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| Purrvert in my dirty laundry. |
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| Chubby Dude is chubby. |
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| "Me? Naughty? Noooo..." |
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| "Do I have any emails from my girlfriends?" |
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| Pretty much my favorite Harley picture ever. For the record: he was yawning. |
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