Yeah, I'm talking to you. *muah*
If you get a few minutes, check out this entry at The Wooden Porch. I was reading through some of my older comments and remembered how darned funny she is.
I'm not sure I've made this clear, but New Cat's real name is Magic. Mystic and Magic. Cute, no?
Life definitely got more hectic and complicated when we got our second cat. For instance, I keep hoping for a harmonious existence, but it still eludes our home. The problem is that both cats are alphas and all they do is fight. The weekends are the worst because we're home; and then, we're lucky if peace reigns four to five hours a day. Including sleeping time. Ack. I should clarify a bit. By fighting, I don't mean hair-flying and puncture wounds... nothing like that. It's just that Mystic likes that chair and Magic wants to sit in it RIGHT-DAMN-NOW!! Things like that.
New Cat is also extremely ill-mannered. He's a beggar. I mean, he'd give a beagle a run for its money in the area of food-motivation. He's awful. Don't think about leaving the table, because he'll immediately replace you on the chair and eat your dinner.
One night, we were eating hamburgers. The Targo cut one in half, put part of it in a Tupperware-esque bowl, and left that on the corner of the table. In the space of two seconds, New Cat flew across the room, grabbed that burger, and flew away, leaving The Targo aghast.
The Targo, having been a dog person, thinks everything can be trained out of an animal. Myself, having grown up in a crazy cat household, I have come to believe there are just some things cats do and that it's nearly impossible to make them not do them. I believe one of those things is sitting on the table when you're not at it. They just like to be up high!
So, Mr. Tries-Really-Hard decided to employ the spray bottle. Mystic sees the bottle and heads for the hills. New Cat? His big bum is not so easily intimidated. The first few times The Targo tried this technique, New Cat complained and moseyed away, taking his own sweet time. And now, this is awesome. He sits there. The Targo picks up the bottle and New Cat Just. Sits. There. And closes his eyes.
I'm pretty sure he's not a cat. He's a teenager. Instead of time outs, we're going to have to threaten to take his car.