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| Name: |
Picasso
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Age: |
Twelve weeks old
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| Gender: |
Male
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Kind: |
Maine coon mix
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| Home: |
Quebec, Canada |
My
father never really liked cats, claimed that their nature was
unbearable, killers he called them, cold-hearted murderers. But I on the
other hand, loved cats so much, that sometimes I considered myself a
cat, noting how much we are alike. I studied information about cats,
took out book after book about cats from the library, reading them from
the front cover to the back. I waited and waited and now finally, after
fourteen years of waiting, I have a cat.
I was actually supposed to get a kitten from one of my friends, but
after seeing the adorable innocent face of Picasso in the window, I knew
that he had to be mine. Me and my mother decided that we would go home
and describe the cat to the rest of the family, show them a photo, and
if they agreed, then we would go back the next day and buy it. But on
the way out, we saw a couple carrying a cat carrier, and dread filled me
at the thought that these people might buy Picasso before we did! So
after rushing home and forcing everyone to agree that this was the
perfect cat, we hurried as fast as we could back to the pet shop and
brought Picasso back home. I expected him to be so scared of the car,
but honestly, he purred all the way home.
Picasso is such a care-free cat, some times a little too care-free! He is
always in a playful mood which I admit can be a little annoying when you
want to sleep, but at least you always have someone to cheer you up when
you are gloomy. One of the things I love about Picasso is how he can get
so scared so easily. If he is playing with a piece of string on the
floor and you walk up behind him and yell 'BOO!', then he will jump three
feet into the air, flip, trip, and fall on his face a couple of times!
He also has a habit of running into walls because he has never thought
of using his claws to stop himself from sliding across the floor. A
strange thing about this cat is that he doesn't mind taking baths! Now I
don't say he likes them, but he does not complain at all when we stick
him in a tub full of water and start scrubbing his back, in fact, he
relaxes just a little. He also has a grudge against my glasses. If he
and I am in a kissy/huggy mood, his act of flowers and honey instantly
switches to thorns and fire as soon as he's near my glasses, and he tries
to tear them off my face! My mom has suggested that he is trying to save
me from what he thinks are evil glasses.
I love my Picasso just the way he is.
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