First in a Series: Human Duty, and the Cats that Enforce It

First in a Series: Human Duty, and the Cats that Enforce It

During the day, I work for the federal government.  All the rest of the time, I work for an elderly dog named Sam (sound familiar?) and an enormous jerk of a cat (sorry, redundant) named Charlie.  This is about Charlie.

Charles Bear Peebody McCarroll's enormity is not only. expressed in terms of jerkiness but also size.  Charlie is nearly 18 pounds, and while he could stand to lose a few, most of that weight is made up of height, length, and Grade A solid tom cat. He's not a bad cat, not really.  He lives in a condo, so he terrorizes the birds through the windows and ferociously shreds every plastic dry-cleaning bag that enters our home.  He even saved me from a mouse once, spending weeks staring underneath the oven until the wretched rodent finally showed his pointy little face.  It would have been better if Charlie had kindly picked up the mouse carcass and disposed of it in the trash, but he's above that kind of thing, you know?

Charles has one primary character flaw, which is that at around age two and a half, he discovered how much fun it is to mark his territory.  That's right, he backs that little kitty butt up and pees on his favorite things.  I guess I'm a little flattered that his favorite things are those in which I spend most of my time, but since those places are my bed and my recliner, the compliment loses a bit of its luster.

Adopting a pet is a bit like marrying a human.  You're committing till death you do part, for better and for worse, for sickness and in health, even if that sickness happens to be compulsive urination.  So I hold my nose, invest in a continuing supply of urine-annihilating products, and spray, dab, repeat.  The good thing is that in between those repeats, Charlie comes by, bumps his furry little head against my ankle and purrs, and I forgive him all over again.  Then he finishes his thought and demands his dinner, and I remember to do my duty as human and feed him.

Why is this first in a series, you ask?  Because I'm not the only human who is crazy over an ill-mannered feline.  Hang in there for my best recommendations to de-funk your home.

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