Oh heavens. You have now reminded me of a couple of favorite stories about our dearly departed Odds. Odds was my curmudgeonly tabby who, when he wasn't sleeping on top of clean laundry, just stomped around being generally peeved at the universe.
1. The first time I brought future Mr. Ynot home after a date, we were seated on the couch side by side watching a movie. Future Mr. Ynot pulled the age-old "stretch and yawn and put arm around the gal" move, and in doing so, uncrossed his legs. Odds, who had been generally lovey to FMY up to this point, moseyed over... put both front paws on edge of couch between FMY's legs as if seeking to be petted... and then reared back and double-paw-punched FMY right in the sensitive bits. This was no accident, this was Odds saying, "don't you mess with my mama, buster!"
2. The next time FMY came over for a date, we were cooking dinner together when we noticed that Odds was apparently chasing his own butt in circles. Not his tail, his butt. I picked him up, and realized that he had eaten the tear-off strip from the top of a bag of baby carrots, and was having... well, difficulties in fully passing this strip of plastic. You know those toy cars from when we were kids, that you'd run the plastic strip through to wind them up, set them down, and they'd go? Yeah. FMY got to pull the "ripcord" while I held the "racecar" and when I set him down, boy did he zoom. Possibly my Most Awkward Date Moment Ever. :floorlaugh:
