Tuesday, November 06, 2007
This is What Happens When You Take Too Many Pictures of Your Cat
This is our cat, Ravage. We named him after one of the original Transformers, a panther whose first version transformed into a cassette tape, which was way cool back in the 1980s because people had never heard of an mp3 file then. Unfortunately, our Ravage does not have that talent, due to a number of reasons, the least of which is because cassette tapes are at the moment nearly extinct. The newer Ravage toy is a panther that ironically transforms into a Jaguar sports car, yet another talent our Ravage does not have.
Ravage is a camwhore. Every time a camera lens is pointed at him, he does one of two things: either he stares at it until the shots stop coming, or he shuts his eyes and put both hands on his head and makes a cute face as if he had a cute migraine and as if the photographer were some paparazzi wanting to post something in the tabloids about the cute migraine he never had because migraines are not cute to begin with anyway. Every now and then, however, his laziness prevails, during which time his interest in any lens pointed at him instantly vanishes, thus he continues sleeping, which is what he does most of the time during the day. Even when sleeping, though, he still manages to appear as if he posed for the shot.
Ravage hates being carried longer than three seconds. He will struggle against and eventually scratch and bite anybody who tries to break this rule.
Unlike other cats, Ravage actually likes fruit. But he is picky with his fruits, thus he only chooses to eat melons. This is why when we buy melons we have to keep the someplace where he can’t get to them; the last time we bought melons and left them on the table for a few hours, they had Ravage’s tooth marks all over them. Thus, we had no choice but to give him almost half a melon, which he proceeded to nibble the entire afternoon and evening. We tried giving him watermelons too, but I guess the similarities between the two fruits only goes as far as their names, at least where Ravage’s tastes are concerned.
Despite his appearance, Ravage is not an entirely black cat. He has tufts of white fur on his chest and crotch that are shaped like a cross and a brief, respectively. Whether this an omen of how the world will end that needs further interpretation or just some genetic dice roll is up to the reader to decide.
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