Fun Shapes

They are rock hard. They come in many shapes and sizes.

Remember when you were a kid and your were learning about circles and squares and triangles? How you would take a shape and then drop them in the appropriate hole in that magical box? I used to call them fun shapes.

Lucky's fun shapes are much more complex. And I'm learning a lot more than I bargained for.

The Lucky is quite a little fun shape factory. I'm not sure what happens once he chomps down his food, but he produces a wide array of shapes and sizes that perhaps no other mammals can create. It seems like a very involved process, the fun shape factory. A sort of step-by-step method as his food travels through the assembly line.

1. Strange Meow
He will belt out this unrecognizable meow that actually really alarms me if I'm around to hear it. It almost sounds like a baby... like a mentally challenged one. There will be about 4 or 5 of these, and he usually scampers off to a private area to express himself.

2. Twitchy Lick
He will sit there with this dazed look and suddenly--bam! He licks his tail and nips at it as if something is pinching him. It's a very quick movement, and then he sits again, with a more worried look and twitches.

3. Kitty Olympics
Suddenly Fat Luck feels the hysterically urgent need to run about the apartment. This is not his usual trot when he hears a can of tuna being opened. It's a gallop. He suddenly remembers that he can still jump high and will bounce off of the kitchen counter, my dresser, the kitchen table, and pretty much off the walls. He'll do several laps of this extreme sport.

4. He Disappears
It's very sudden. He just vanishes.

5. The Sound of Fun Shapes
You can hear several of these rock hard objects falling upon the hardwood floor.

6. Kitty Olympics--The Fight for the GOLD
He continues his laps furiously. If it's just two laps, that means he completed his mile. If it's more than that, I have to literally leap on top of him to make sure that a shape is not stuck in his little bucket.

7. The Misshapen
Guess what happens if a shape stops the assembly line--someone's gotta yank that lever. Now just like with any factory line, if you leave your station, you will suffer the consequences. Have you ever seen a fat cat drag ass on your bed? I have. Except it was my bed.

8. The Sight of Shapes
I thought we'd skip the smell part, it's pretty self-explanatory. Although I must say it's a good tracking device. But yes, the sight of shapes is very unique. Circles, half moons, rain drops, ovals, cylinders, octagons--the list goes on. The nice thing, if there is a pleasant thing about all this, is that they are very dry and easy to pick up. There's no crumbling, bending, smearing, or smudging. Just scoop, lift, and drop.

Do I scream at the Lucky for this? I did. But it just doesn't matter to the beast. He's like beelzebub's son, he likes it. So I just scoop, lift, and drop. And somehow my indifference drives the Lucky crazy. So even though he does not stop his biological warfare, I am definitely winning the psychological battle.

My Left Foot

My left foot usually falls victim to Lucky. Look at all
that cat hair.

"I stepped in cat shit," is not a commonly used phrase. It's usually dog shit. Not cat shit. But if you heard someone say this, that they actually did indeed step in cat shit, you would expect them to be standing outside somewhere, like in a field, or a garden, or a litterbox. Not indoors. Not in an apartment.

Not unless you are in my apartment.

Lucky strategically places his dumplings around my home. They each seem to have their own statement:

• In the middle of the kitchen: "You should have given me some of your chicken."
• Underneath the kitchen table: "Just in case you didn't hear me, you should have given me some of your chicken."
• In the middle of the doorway: "You owe me rent."
• Next to his litterbox: "Don't mock me."
• Next to his cat dish: "Oops."
• In the middle of the living room: "I just really want you to step in this."
• In front of the TV: "I hate Project Runway."
• Underneath the coffee table: "Hehehehehe."
• Underneath my roommate's bed: "Only nightmares for you!"

For quite some time I could dodge his mine field. I could practically do it with my eyes closed. But for some odd reason, lately, I have been stepping in his demons, and only with my left foot. I can only only assume that the Lucky calculated my footsteps with the fact that I am right-handed, and somehow came up with the most brilliant layout for his offspring.

I wonder what would happen if I scattered his droppings in areas that he has not yet explored. Or right below the arm of the couch where he usually lands after a nap. Maybe he'd step in his own shit. God. That would rule.

Fat Luck

*He is too fat to fit in his condo. Notice how his paw sticks out.

Last time the Lucky was at the vet, he weighed 18 lbs.

He is quite fat. When I take him to his vet, he usually tries to muffle his laughter when he sets Fat Luck on the scale. Then he scolds me for not monitoring Lucky's diet, but I swear I can see him trying to cover up his smile. Healthy or unhealthy, fat cats are funny.

When Lucky was young and light, he would jump on top of my refrigerator, where all the chips and cereal were stored, and I would come home from school to ripped apart bags of Doritos and clawed up Coco Puffs all over the kitchen floor. I didn't want to believe it was Fat Luck. I tried to pretend that it was my roommate instead.

But one day, I accidentally left the cat nip out on the kitchen counter. I came home to Fat Luck passed out on the kitchen floor amidst Doritos, Coco Puffs, Oreos, and thousands of flakes of cat nip sprinkled about. Maybe it was a cry for help.

Today, Fat Luck has a special diet. He gets crystals in his urine, so I have to buy him really expensive crunchies (dry food)--$23 8 lb bag of crunchies.

That means that Lucky weighs more than double the amount of crunchies he eats.

Maybe if I get him up to triple that amount, he won't be able to jump on my couch or bed to pee on it.

10 Year Friendship

*don't let him fool you with this picture.

I have to catch you up to 2006.

I bought the Lucky at a pet store in the Crossroads Mall. That's a mall in Boulder, Colorado. I call him "the" Lucky because his being deserves that sort of salutation. I was 19. Lucky was 2 months. He was a boy cat, so I took him home. He peed on the rug by our front door on his first night in our new life together. He has been peeing on the front door ever since.

I call him Lucky because I actually knew this cat back when I was in junior high named Lucky. He was really fat and sort of slumped on my friend's front porch. Didn't move much. I thought that was hilarious and wanted a cat just like him. So that's where his name comes from. And now he is fat.

After living with the Lucky for 10 years, after tolerating his pissing on: my front door (this is every day), my bed (that would be once on each bed I've owned, which is 4), my couch (it's rare, but the smell never quite vanishes), my boyfriend's couch (sh, don't tell him), my bath towel (while I was showering), my bathroom rugs (while I was showering), my kitchen rug (while I'm cooking), my hardwood floors (at least ya can't see the stain), my carpeted floors (well there's nothing positive about this one), on my friend's lap (gotta laugh about that one), and right next to his litterbox (my favorite), I am starting to realize that his name is precisely 50% true and 50% false--Lucky for him, not so lucky for me.

But I have never considered giving up the beast. I think I may have lost an old boyfriend because of him. Somehow, I still have this cat. Somehow, I still love him. So for 10 YEARS I have been actually battling this cat's wits. It's not like how the vets say that he is upset with all the moving or that he's territorial. Yes, yes, I know--territory, male, weenies, yes--it can be these things for other cats... but for the Lucky... that's what he wants you to think...

Puppy wee wee pads taped to my front door appeared to be my victory in the fall of 2004. BUT, it was only downtime for Lucky. In the summer of 2005, Lucky began to take a dump in random areas of the apt. He even drops a few kids off right by his cat dish. But, now he has done the unspeakable...

He pooped on my bed, on my blankets, WHILE I WAS SLEEPING IN IT. Since then it is a war that I must write about.

Now I'm in this to win.