This May Be a Little Too Graphic for Some

Today I was on the toilet (as I'm sure most of us were at some point today).

My pants were down around my ankles and in walks Mr. Burkett (my youngest cat) and plops herself down in my pants. This is the sort of thing she does and I was not surprised at all. But I was overwhelmed by her exceeding cuteness. She is the cutest thing on the planet.

Since I'm talking about my cats, I may as well REALLY talk about my cats (the only thing I'm truly good at talking about):

Mr. Bob Burkett is 8 months old (today! Happy Birthday Mr. B!). She is all black with Dijon-mustard eyes. She was born in my closet last summer when I was staying with my parents. Her mother, Roxy, had taken a liking to me and insisted upon my being her midwife (i.e. she meowed like crazy whenever I would try to walk away when she was in labor, plus she bit me right before giving birth to the first kitty). So I've known Mr. B all her life. She got her name in the following ways:

When I was a child I loved the movie My Favorite Wife with Cary Grant and Irene Dunne. There's a scene in that movie where a pageboy is paging a character named Steven Burkett (played by Randolph Scott). He wanders the Pacific Club yelling "Paging Mr. Burkett," and even sometimes sounds like he's singing. So I started wandering the house singing "Paging Mr. Burkett," modulating up and down and up and down and driving my siblings crazy. Last summer I took to calling Roxy "Mistress Baby" (don't ask) and I would call to her in the tune of "Paging Mr. Burkett." So I decided I must name my kitten Mr. Burkett because it would be so jolly to have a reason to sing the Mr. Burkett tune on a regular basis.

Now for the Bob part. One day, also when I was in SLC last summer, my sister C and I were coming out of her apartment and there was a nice-looking short-tailed black and white cat hanging around. It was wearing a collar and tag, so I approached it and found out its name was Bob. This was obviously because of its short tail, but I thought it was very funny for a cat to be named Bob. So anyway, the address on the tag was a couple of blocks away, so C and I decided we might want to take the cat closer to its home. I picked up Bob (which I realize was not the best of ideas), and he turned around and boxed my ears (really he missed and hit my cheeks, but I don't think you can say "he boxed my cheeks") and leaped out of my arms. C and I nearly died laughing at this tricky cat and I then determined I must name my cat after him.

So that is how my little girl cat came to be named Mr. Bob Burkett. She is crazy. She likes to hop into the (empty) bathtub and scratch really fast on the sides of the tub. I think she can see her reflection in the porcelain or something. But she just goes absolutely crazy. When I play with her she likes to wrap her front paws around my arm and kick me with her hind legs and bite my fingers. Then she remembers that it hurts me when she bites my fingers and she switches to licking. She purrs at the drop of a hat and makes really creepy clicking noises when she sees a bird or squirrel in the outside tree. She likes to jump up and swipe things that are magneted to the fridge. She wakes me up with insistent meowing every morning very early even if she has food in her dish. She is VERY bad. She is currently sitting right on my mouse pad. She always finds the most inconvenient places to sit. It is among her most endearing traits.

Okay. I am tired! I think I will save the woeful tale of Isis (my older cat) for another post.