When Charlie Met Smeagol

Last week, I got a kitten from Craigslist.  The woman who found him couldn’t keep him because her son had allergies, and since I have been wanting a cat for some time now, I offered to take him in.  I dubbed him, Smeagol.


Please go to sleep so I can eat your soul. Please?

I live alone most of the time, and when I’m home, I’m in my bedroom.  This translates into Smeagol having a very large portion of my apartment all to himself.  And by large, I mean my entire dining room (which, to be fair, isn’t exactly massive) and the bulk of my living room.

All your base are belongs to me.

All your base are belongs to me.

As you can imagine, Charlie was not pleased at this development.  When I brought Smeagol into the house for the first time, Charlie thought I had brought him a snack.  I had to smack him with a rolled up newspaper and tell him no.  He stopped trying to eat the kitty, but he refused to turn his back on him, either.  Charlie might be dumb, but he’s not stupid.

The next trial came by way of the litter box.  I’m not entirely sure if Smeagol was too little and inexperienced to grasp the concept of pooping inside the litter box instead of, oh say…my corners, or if he knew perfectly good and well what that box was for and, instead, preferred not to.  I should have named him Bartleby.  Charlie, however, took to the idea and ran with it.  I walked in to find him squatting over the litter box.  I will never be able to unsee that.  He got mad when I told him litter boxes were for cats, not corpses, but he hasn’t squatted over it since.  Smeagol still has his moments, but he’s using the box more frequently so I can be ok with that.

The biggest problem, by far, was the morning Smeagol discovered that Charlie’s dangly bits made good cat toys.  No, you perverts, I don’t mean those dangly bits.  Charlie doesn’t always hold together the best, so when things start to come undone, they just sort of hang there.  It’s kind of gross.  Not nearly as gross as Smeagol pulling one of those bits off and eating it.  Even Charlie turned greener at that.

Thus far, things are going well.  Smeagol is passed out in my lap and Charlie’s in the dining room playing with the Teavana bag.  This will be an interesting year.

Dapper Smeagol

I mustache you a question. Do I make this hat look good? I do, don’t I?


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