My Fetching Cat

Yeah yeah, dogs are man's best friend. Too bad man's best friend is usually landlord's worst enemy. Well, my wife (then girlfriend) a few years ago got me the best graduation present ever. Actually, it was the second best. I originally asked for a Harley Davidson but she bailed out on that one. So, I got a cat instead. He's over 2 years old now, and he's a spitting image of his daddy, just slightly less hair (zing).

One of the great things that Sammy does is fetch. He's better than some dogs I know. It started with him bringing those tiny toy mice back to me. Since he's all grown up now, those are good enough. His fetch toy of choice is a stick with a string on the end that ties to a little feather thing. Our apartment is a loft and my computer is upstairs. Usually around 10pm, he'll come upstairs, bitchin, draggin the stick behind him. this turns into a good 10 minutes of me tossing the toy over the ledge and Sammy hauling tail downstairs. Our neighbors must think we are nuts (who can blame them). When he retrieves it and brings it up stairs, he starts meowing when he gets close to me. As soon as I grab it, he bitches some more, but waits for the overboard toss.

Well, I can't play fetch all night long so Sammy reminds us of his talents. Every morning, and I literally mean every morning, we wake up with at least one of his toys on the bed and 3 or 4 scattered around the bed. Mind you, these toys are all downstairs when I go to bed. I think he misses the days when I could stay up till 4am. Hell, I miss those days. Damn the man and student loans!