He's cute, right?
That's what I have to tell myself when he's driving me bonkers.
This cat is driving me bonkers.
He really should be named Picky-Picky because he is the pickiest cat in the world. He can't drink his water if it's been in his bowl more than a few hours; he can't eat his food if it has spilled out of his bowl and been scooped back in (somehow he knows). He can't use his litter box if it hasn't been cleaned that day. If I miss even ONE DAY of cleaning it out, he will poop on the floor right next to it.
He digs up our garden, he bats bird eggs out of nests (three so far this year), he broke his cat door and now he won't stay in the garage unless we barricade him in.
This is how we have to leave our living room before we go to bed. The ottoman with the vacuum on it, the chair, and the couch all pushed against the door. It looks like we're barricading against zombies, but this is the only way to keep him in the garage. I know that sounds so mean, but he does not sleep quietly in the house at night. He meows loudly, runs around the house like a wildcat, and pounces on our feet while we try to sleep. So we have provided him with a lovely box and soft blanket, toys, food and water, everything he needs. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of him banging against the barricade, trying to get in. Sometimes he manages to push all that stuff the few inches he needs to get in and he wanders into our room in the middle of the night and scares me to death.
But despite all that, he's cute and fluffy, playful and cuddly, and we love him. Usually.