Captain Bean

       I realize that I blog excessively about myself. I apologize. Today I shall inform you about Louis, my bean-shaped cat (the more I think about it, the more I have the urge to call him Captain Bean, but somehow I feel that would end badly). I believe that he has a soul, not because I am an insane cat lover (which I am), but because a soulless beast is incapable of such intemperance. Louis is a very snide, very large and slightly deformed creature. Not like twisted deformed, or lacking anything (in fact he has too much of EVERYTHING), but in that he is exceptionally contortable. He can stretch four feet to eat doll hair, or curl up in the space behind your back in an easy chair. He can take up an entire loveseat with his body when he's relaxed, and he has really long legs. He also is overweight, so he moves very little. Sometimes I wonder if the only exercise he gets is the actual movement of the feets in the six-foot-long journey getting from reclining position on the back porch through the back door to reclining position in front of the fireplace. Believe it or not, he was once a skinny, leaping critter, as opposed to this massive beast that now occupies our fireplace rug.
       In our school's Bible class, we're going through the attributes of God for apologetics. So let me give you the attributes of Louis. And apologize.
       Louis is constantly hungry. It matters not whether he could actually survive for several months before he would actually hear the belly rumble; his mind seems to believe that he has no actual stomach. So, whenever his food bowl is empty, Louis resorts to the Three-Step-Remedy:

              
       And then there's a two-step process to actually devouring the food.

       This is why Louis is obese.

       Louis has a knack for finding exactly where you don't want him.

       Louis has selective hearing. Some days, when you talk about him with him within hearing distance, he gets all miffed.
               

                         But when you actually WANT him, he becomes suddenly deaf. And when you get all mad at him, he's all like YOU CAN'T YELL AT ME FOOL I HAVE A TRAGIC DISABILITY!!! and then you feel all bad. He's really good at guilt trips. Example: He has an addiction to scratching the carpet when he comes in from being outside, flexing his biceps, all that. He knows he shouldn't be doing it. He KNOWS. I swear. And when you yell at him, or, like me, smack the top of his head (which is very broad and strangely flat) his ears go flat and he screams like you clocked him with a rubber mallet for trying to curl up with you.

       Did I mention he's very manipulative?

       Also, he has a short-term memory. If you're walking down the hall, he'll cut in front of you, and then he slows wayyy down or lays on the floor. When you try to get around him, he freaks out and starts hollering and runs away from you down the hall. Likewise, he will forget that the person he is currently cuddling with is the person who has saved him from the big bad world and promptly tries to murder them.

       I remember when we first got Louis. He had been dumped off in my friend's neighborhood. He was extremely skinny, and my friend Aleesha (bless her little heart) had named him Missy, under the notion that he was a female.

       

              It's been a while, but some things never change, like the fact that Louis and I have a twisted love-hate relationship, or that he looks like a kidney bean, or that my library books will never be turned in on time.

       Crap. There I go yammering about myself again.

--Sabrina