I have to say this is the best natured cat we have ever owned or even met for that matter. He has greeted each spastic episode with an almost apathetic calmness.
Let's see, other than the tug of war that goes on over the kitty daily and I have learned to dread the early morning wail "I want the kitty,I had it first" before I even open my peepers, this is what the cat has faced thus far:
O put the kitty inside on of those kid folding, foam couches and closed it up and... sat on the cat. The cat didn't even cry. I only realized what was up from his sister telling on him. I opened up the couch, the cat just looked at me and didn't even attempt to get away. Stunned? Maybe.
While having his bath O grabbed the kitty and pulled him into the tub with him. The cat didn't mind. Well not until O decided to dump buckets of water over the cat's head. Again, I have my information from his sister. She's a prime source that kid.
Then this morning, his sister once again informs me that she wasn't playing with bandaids, O was. Oh really? Doesn't that just set my mom radar agoing. Sure enough there was O with bandaids in his bedroom. J feigning complete innocence and utter ignorance as to what was going on. Sure you weren't sweetie, then who told O where the bandaids were? Gotcha my girl!
I guess they figured it needed a little doctoring. The silly cat just sat there and let them do that to it. Mind you, one of them could have had it pinned down.
Who knew bandaids would stick to cat fur so badly. Poor thing. He didn't actually even cry when he got them off. Of course, hubby tried to be as careful as possible.
Guess I am going to have to hide the bandaids in a better spot. Darn my weak moment. I knew J had a predilection for bandaids and I actually let her see the stash when I put a bandaid on her knee yesterday but I figured hey, she was older now. Silly mommy.