So, cat # 3 in the household is Neo. Wait, did I not tell you we have cats? We have cats. Seven. Cats. Three is a good number of cats. The dynamic works quite well. Seven is . . . on the way to crazy town. This is only partly my doing. But I digress. I’m here to discuss Neo.
He chose his own name. How, you ask? The Spousal Unit had picked out a couple of names for him and I did the same. The names she had picked out were Angel and Xander. She may or may not have been a big fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer at the time. (Hint: she was.) Mine were Mr. Potato Head and Neo. I’m going to guess you don’t need help figuring out where those names came from. I also thought that Neo was an apt name as Neo means “new” and he was, at the time, the newest cat in the growing brood. Anyway, what we did is this: we put him across the room and took turns calling him by each name. “Angel! Angel!” caused him to look around, absent-mindedly. (We were unaware at the time that this would be his normal mode of operation.) “Mr. Potato Head” produced much the same result, as did the diminutive “Spud.” “Xander!” got more of the same. Just . . . vacant. But, ah, calling “Neo!” produced a perk up of the ears, a “chrrrup?” and, yes, a kitten standing up and hurrying over to us.
This may have been the most intelligent thing he’s ever done. Don’t get me wrong, I love this cat. He’s quite probably the sweetest living creature I’ve ever met. He loves attention and will run ahead of you, flop on the floor, and chrrrup for rubs and attention. If you walk over or past him he will repeat this same cute act until you actually do pay attention. But he’s about as smart as a cotton ball. On top of that, he is incredibly orally fixated. Hands, faces, the box fan, counter tops, plastic bags, table legs, CD cases, shoes, door jambs, and chairs are but the tip of the iceberg. The chair, though . . . he licked the faux finish off the chair at the Spousal Unit’s vanity in the master bathroom. All of this, however, pales in comparison to his ongoing affair with the alligator from Fantasia. Yes, you read that right.
Amongst other Disney items in the house, we happened to have a Disney Beanie (like a Beanie Baby, but a Disney character) of the alligator from Fantasia, the ostensibly male alligator that dances with the tutu-wearing hippo. The first cat to discover the alligator was cat #2, Spice. She would “catch” it almost daily and present it as a gift to the Mommy Cat. This is a pretty normal cat behavior. But Neo . . . Neo is different.
Before I go any further it should be noted that Neo is neutered. This probably only adds to his sexual frustration.
The first thing we noticed was that he would hook his lower jaw into his collar, almost as though he needed a ball gag or something. He would jump up on the bed, hook his jaw, knead a blanket, make very strange noises, and, well, slowly hump. We wondered if it was that auto-asphyxiation thing, and warned him about Michael Hutchence. As teenagers are wont to do, he paid us no attention. However, after a few years of this, he suddenly discovered the alligator.
It was basically the same move: chin down, kneading, slowly humping, but with the alligator in his mouth. While he’s never actually gotten it quite right, it’s fairly obvious he is attempting to mount the alligator. This is not a daily occurrence, though. Oh, no. Daily is far too infrequent. My horny little cat does this perhaps three or four times a day, every single day.
I love that stupid gay cat.
I don’t know if it’s the 7 (!) cats or the image of Neo and his gator.But please insert my LOL in every apropo spot. Back in the day when I was a “we”, we had a hunting dog named Roscoe, who had a favorite toy gator and stuffed dead squirrel ( yuck) . Anytime the ex would bring out the rifle to train Roscoe, he would grab squirrel or gator and run the other way. Yes, a hunting dog that hated rifles and protected already dead animals.Not a great hunting dog but, a great dog.