My buddy Oberon

When the Giraffe and I decided to move in together, I knew that his cat was part of the deal. It’s not that I’m anti-cats, but I’m not a big pet person in general. All I could envision was cat hair everywhere, stinky litter box odor, and a cranky feline all up in my business all the time. People would ask, “are you nervous to live with the Giraffe?” and I’d say, “not at all, but I am nervous to live with his cat.”

But now, Oberon (the cat) and I? we’re pretty much BFFs.

Seriously, somehow I fell head over heels for this creature. For one, he’s a good cat. He loves to cuddle, and I’m usually happy to oblige. He loves to be petted and scratched, kind of like me. He doesn’t get into things he shouldn’t or make obnoxious noises at obnoxious times, and he doesn’t bug us when we don’t want to be bugged. True, he’s not a fan of strangers, but fortunately I stopped being a stranger within the first week. And he hates having his picture taken, but as you can see, I don’t mind torturing him.

(That’s the Giraffe with Oberon. His head is a light bulb because I haven’t decided to fully reveal him to the internets yet.)

A couple weeks ago Oberon went through a weird phase where he’d hide in the crook of our closet and not come out. Ever. It was so sad because we were used to having him cuddled up on the couch with us, or maybe chillin’ on his favorite rocking chair across the room. I found myself genuinely sad that he was sad and that he wasn’t interacting with us. Then suddenly he was back to normal, crawling all over my lap, nudging me for attention, purring like a broken lawn mower. I’m a little embarrassed by how happy it made me.

The Giraffe tries to tell me I’m a cat person now, but I insist I’m an Oberon person. I’m not a sucker for cats in general, just this one. I just happen to think this kitty is pretty fuckin’ awesome.

[I swear this won't become a pet blog. If it does, hurt me.]