You’ve seen before what it looks like when Loki powernaps. He just lets himself fall into whatever position best suits the immediate need: sleep.
When I walked into the bedroom the other day and saw this mess, I knew he was zonked.
With his tail hanging out one side and his head hanging out the other, he was like a raggedy doll tossed aside after a hard day of play.
I’m presently sitting at the desk working on the laptop. Loki is lying beside me tending to a bit of personal grooming. Once in a while he intercepts one of my hands for some attention, and then he goes back to bathing.
I posted this week’s internet quiz before returning to my graphics editor. I was looking for some nature photos to post.
Without any warning at all, more than a dozen images popped open. For each one I closed, two or three more would pop open.
I’m quite certain my eyes were as big as saucers as I sat muttering something like “What the hell?” or any number of other colorful phrases. It seemed the harder I tried to close the rapidly opening windows, the more windows I had to close.
That’s when I noticed Loki was leaning back cleaning his side. In order to push himself into position, his front paw had been propped on the laptop’s keyboard. Across several keys. And he was pressing them down.
Aha!
The moment I moved his foot (which, by the way, totally interrupted his grooming), the deluge came to an abrupt end.
I kindly explained to him that I didn’t need his help and that I would greatly appreciate him not getting involved in computer work unless he knew what he was doing.
So he got up and walked right across the keyboard. By the time he moved, I had a whole new set of applications open while everything I was originally using had been closed.
With his work complete, he strolled off the keyboard, hopped off the desk, and sauntered into the kitchen for a bite to eat.
When he’s not taking it by force, there are times I see a gentler side of Loki, an expectant yet subtle interaction very much unlike his normal brutality.
Take this moment for example:
All of The Kids had rallied around me for play and affection. For Loki, however, something was missing, something his calm demeanor and questioning gaze tried to communicate to me whilst my attention remained focused on all five felines. When I didn’t get the hint, he tried to make his point clearer sans the use of violence. Instead, he tried using a visual cue.
Ah! He wanted to play fetch. Since I was obviously too daft to pick up on that by myself, he brought me a ball and placed it right in front of me. I mean, no human could be so ignorant as to not understand his expectation with that offering.
[oh, and one note: I don’t know for certain who’s visible in the pictures with Loki; since all of The Kids were there with me and since I can’t see more than a bit of dark body, I can tell you it’s either Kako or Kazon—but I can’t say specifically which one]
Look at this photo of Grendel.
Yes, I realize it’s terrible quality. Keep in mind it was taken almost 10 years ago with a disposable camera. Oh, and that roll of film got lost for two years due to a relocation. So let’s move on.
Do you notice anything odd about what the photo shows? No, I don’t mean all the toys. I had just finished vacuuming and dumped the toys back on the floor when Grendel plopped down in the middle of the mess. I snapped the picture before getting down there with him and putting in some serious fun time.
Seriously, do you notice anything odd? Like a Starbucks drink carrier lying behind him?
Now look at this photo taken two days ago.
Like the one before it, the photo isn’t a very good image. That’s my fault. Can we just get over that already?
Notice anything odd in that picture? Like a Starbucks drink carrier under Loki?
Those who have or have had cats know full well that the best feline toys often are not those purchased as playthings for the cats. Truth be told, the best feline playthings often wind up being items never considered for the cats. You know, like straws, bottle caps, and packing straps.
For some reason I’ve yet to fathom, cats are prone to seek out and find enjoyment from what really doesn’t belong to them, including garbage, and they do so with more fun in their hearts and mischief on their minds than is often the case with their own baubles. These drink carriers represent just such a case.
Shortly after Loki and Grendel were first adopted, I happened to come home from Starbucks with coffee for Derek and me. I took the coffee from the carrier before placing the recycled paper tray on the bar where I would later retrieve it and put it in the trash. That was never going to happen.
Loki found it first and knocked it to the ground. Then both he and Grendel proceeded to shred the tarnation out of it with predatory abandon normally reserved for the biggest kills, which in their cases tend to be palmetto bugs or Daddy.
That was 10 years ago.
They haven’t given up the habit since.
It’s rather odd with the two of them (the other cats neither like nor dislike the trays). Grendel and Loki can demolish those things in a single sitting the first day it arrives, so I’ve often been forced to bring them home each day to keep a fresh supply rotating through the house.
Both cats like using it as a scratching post, a bed, a toy under which other toys can be hidden before being hunted, a toy to be batted about like the best catnip balls, and generally whatever other games they can come up with for them. It’s strange. Very strange.
But honestly, it’s not that bizarre for cats. It’s in their personality. One man’s garbage is a feline’s treasure…sometimes.
I’ve made clear many times how Loki doesn’t take no for an answer. When he wants something, he demands it with much pushing and hitting and general violence. He’s singularly responsible for more damaged clothing and profuse bleeding—on my part!—than the rest of The Kids combined.
The problem is he’s not patient. At all. When he wants attention, he wants it RIGHT NOW! And if I don’t give it freely and immediately…he takes it by force.
So I recently sat on the bedroom floor hanging out with The Kids when Loki sauntered in and realized I made easy prey being down at that level. (In truth, I’m not safe anywhere when he decides it’s time for some lovin’.) While the other cats lounged about and soaked up attention, in charged the god of mischief, pushed them all aside, and proceeded to beat the tarnation out of me until he got what he wanted.
Don’t believe me? Here’s the proof.
Sure, I know he looks all innocent and everything, as though he’s gently touching his pet human, but looks are deceiving. Very deceiving.
Notice the whirlwind paw action going on there. He ain’t playin’ around. He just goes on smacking me like a schoolyard bully pounding the class nerd. It’s our ugly domestic abuse secret, I swear!
It wouldn’t be so bad if all he did was paw me incessantly. But you see, Loki doesn’t believe in doing anything halfway.
Now do you appreciate the problem? He uses his claws! Egads! Every hit represents a new hole in something. Sometimes my clothes; sometimes me.
For Loki does not just restrain himself to body blows. Oh no, that would be too polite for a beast who’s equal parts beauty and evil. Nope, he plays for keeps.
See what I mean? He’s taking a swing at my face. He’s a smart one, that devil, because he understands that will most certainly get my attention. Not that the rest doesn’t, mind you, but claws to the face with a few brutal smacks to drive the point home absolutely makes me cower in a corner and give him whatever he wants.
I leaned back in a feeble attempt to escape this assault of feline fisticuffs. What did he do? Adapted his approach of course.
Yep, he shifted positions and which paw was propped up on my leg, a maneuver that negated my quick retreat. And he still went for my face.
In the end he won the fight—as he always does—and I gave him all the attention he could stand. Afterward, I went to the bathroom and nursed the wound on my chin, the wound on my cheek, and the wound on my nose, not to mention several crimson racing stripes on my hands.
Do you think there’s a community outreach center where abused humans can go to talk about their violent feline owners?