So Chunk the Magnificent has been living with Matthew and I since February 23rd.
We are BESOTTED. He is THE best kitten in the world.
He has a seriously healthy play ethic, and loves to pull toys around between his legs, and drag them off to his lair, like kills.
His eyes dilate, his ears slant rearwards, he tears from one end of the house to the other, he does 360’s and 480’s and 720’s, trying to catch his tail. We call him the Maniac, and sing him Michael Sembello’s song from Flashdance.
He fetches. Paper wads, stuffed toys, springs, paper towel rolls stuffed into a sock. Once I woke up at 3am when he stuffed a paper wad into my fist. Seriously, even if you never click on links, you should click on these, because my cat is adorable (not biased, no, not at all): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=68a45OBjyQE
He sleeps under the covers with us, or tucked under my chin, or on Matt’s head. Once Matt woke up to find Chunk grooming his mustache for him. And currently, he is under the covers, between my shins, napping.
He spreads his love around. First he loves on me, then he loves on Matt, then he comes back to me. He follows us around. He watches Warriors’ games with us. He sits on the dining room chair and watches us cook. Yesterday he followed me into the bathroom, and spent my entire shower sitting in my brassier, staring at me pop-eyed over the rim of a grapefruit-colored F-cup.
He’s trainable. We have fruit and flower branches in vases around the house, wild almond, redbud, peach, apricot, eucalyptus, ornamental pear, rose, which I’ve cut from our yard and the back forty. He played with a branch when he first came, we bopped him gently on the head and said no. He’s now left them alone for four weeks, pretty much. Same with getting up on the dining room table, and unrolling the toilet paper roll. He’s not big enough to get up on the counters yet. Fingers crossed.
He, like me, LOVES a good textile. Unfortunately, for him that means he tries to eat it. But not before trying to kill it. He absolutely loathes my hot water bottle, which is covered in a hand-knitted wool sweater. He tries to kill it on sight. Given the evidence, he will not be a studio cat, and we’ll try to keep him from temptations in the house.