Elan Morgan is a writer and web designer who works from Elan.Works, a designer and editor at GenderAvenger, and a speaker who has spoken across North America. They believe in and work to grow both personal and professional quality, genuine community, and meaningful content online.

Yar! I Bite Your Everything.

Onion's reaction to heavy panting

Onion likes to sit next to me all day every day. He sits next to me on the couch, takes naps with me, and even accompanies me to the bathroom. It was unnerving at first, because sometimes he just sits and stares unblinkingly at me. I used to obsessively brush imaginary crumbs and lint off my boobs, because I thought that maybe he was doing that thing that people do when you are talking to them, but you can tell that they are not listening, because they are looking slightly to the left and below your mouth, and you know that there is definitely some leftover spaghetti in your hair, only Onion is a cat, not a person, and cats do not care whatsoever about lint and crumbs and boogers, because they are basically walking lint ball crumb traps themselves. Now that I have figured that out, I just shout out WILL YOU FUCKING STOP

STARING

AT ME?! several times throughout the day. The neighbours swear that they can't hear anything strange coming from our apartment.

To put it mildly, Onion is a pretty stupid cat. He has only one move for every object that he wants to manipulate: he pats it top-down with his right front paw. He pats blankets, plastic bags, and cardboard boxes, and he is never able to get under or inside anything, because aside from the patting motion making noise, it does not actually open or lift anything. You are probably thinking that surely he can get inside different rooms, but you are wrong. That requires pushing at doors with his head, and that is not in his patting repertoire, so all he can do is wave a paw through a crack in the door, cry, and hope for human intervention.

His limited intelligence means that he has really predictable and reflexive behaviours, and it is kind of fun to manipulate him into them. For instance, if I pet him while on the bed, there is about a ten-second lag before he must also love my bedside lamp by rubbing his gums along the edge of the lampshade. One time, just to see how he would react, I would not allow him access to my lamp, so he wandered over to the Palinode's taller lamp and ended up rolling with it in a lover's embrace on the bed as he tried to reach the shade with his gums. His other predictable behaviour comes out when Oskar, our oldest cat, crawls under the bedcovers. As soon as Oskar starts crawling around under there, Onion's face gets this oh-sweet-jeebus-I-have-to-fuck-that look, and he inevitably will proceed to sexually accost Oskar through the blankets, much to Oskar's yowling protestations.

I conduct these mini-experiments sometimes to see if I can elicit any other reflex behaviours in Onion, and I hit on another strange one last night. I noticed that he got twitchy every time I sighed more than once in a row, so I started panting really hard. Huh huh huh huh huh huh huh huh. At first, he licked my fingers with that jerkiness cats have when they are licking an itch, so I panted some more. Huh huh huh huh huh huh huh huh. He started biting at my fingers and then anything within reach of his mouth, including my laptop.

You know what comes next, don't you? You must. I keep panting at him now and then stick random objects in his mouth when the bite reflex kicks in. So far he has bitten chopsticks, some paper towel, a FURminator, a metal sculpture made of car parts, and a book called The World's Most Evil Murderers.

Next, he is getting a mouthful of soft cat food, because I am feeling guilty for not feeling guilty about abusing his pant/bite reflex just so I can see him bite down and make that pirate-like YAR! face.

I am a participant in NaBloPoMo 2008, a challenge to write 30 posts in 30 days during the month of November. "National Blog Posting Month is the epicenter of daily blogging!"

Five Star Friday: Edition #32

The Poppy