One of our cats has begun to pick up bad habits from Gus, our Pomeranian.
Gus is permitted to have bad habits, because he makes up for them in oh so many ways. He's almost like a person. Except he has more personality than many people I know.
Not so the cat.
He's not very modest. He appears to be covering his face in shame, while he displays the OTHER end of his body for all the world to see.
His name is Olive, because when we took him to the vet for the first time, they told us his name COULDN'T be Olivia.
But Hubby calls him Brutus, as he has called most of the cats we have had, except for the one named Smokey that he called Smog and the one named Wheeler that he called Wheels.
More specifically, he's Big Brutus.
Because he calls Missy Little Brutus.
As you can see in this picture, there is no plate of cat food on the table as of yet. (PLEASE don't tell my mother that's where we feed the cat. It's the only way to keep Gus out of his food. I always scrub it thoroughly before we sit down to eat. And you can't prove I don't.) That would explain the completely pissed-off look on this cat's face. He wants his food immediately, if not sooner.
And he's very vocal about it.
This picture is when he was still very little and very cute. Before he ballooned to weigh more than Gus. He was probably still Olivia then too.
This one is after he had to have not one but BOTH hips replaced. He looks a little embarrassed at being caught without his britches.
Having animals that DON'T cost us a fortune is apparently not in the tea leaves.
Lately, however, Big Brutus has developed an annoying habit that surpasses all of his other annoying habits.
He has begun to beg for food while we are eating.
Isn't that what a dog is supposed to do?
He starts off with a very subtle approach. He comes to my end of the table and sits there looking up at me. Invariably I cannot ignore the stare any longer, and I make the mistake of making eye contact with him.
"MEOW!" he says. Loudly.
I ignore him, because he eats about ten times a day as it is, and he doesn't have to supplement his pork-laden diet with people food. Especially when the people is me.
When I don't give him a bite of food, he comes closer, eventually standing up on his hind legs and patting my arm gently with his front paw.
"Hello? Did you forget I was down here?" he says.
Because he is so persistent and so loud and I'm a sucker, eventually I give him a tiny bite of whatever we are having.
He sniffs it at great length, debating as to whether or not he really wants to take it.
Sometimes he eventually DOES take it, and shakes his head (why do cats do that with their food? It's already dead!), more often than not dropping the morsel of food on the floor, where Gus snaps it up before Brutus can blink.
I don't know where he got this abominable habit of begging for food, but it is annoying. When we are having a meal like cornbread and soup, he refuses to believe there is nothing suitable for him on the table. He turns up his nose at a LOT of things we have for dinner, but he continues to beg anyway.
I fully expect to come home one day and find him smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer.