Dorian: "Adom, we have a problem."
Me: "What's that, love?"
Dorian: "It's...it's my arm."
Me: "What's wrong?"
Dorian: "The man. It's the man. He...my arm...KAPLOW!" (Dorian drives his elbow outward, jamming it into my eye.)
Me: "OW! Jesus fuck!"
Dorian: "Got 'im."
"Have you seen my d20? I think the rabbit hid it in the percolator. Tell Roger to get the gun."
"Where's the cat? Honey, where's the cat? You didn't let him outside, did you? We live on the second floor!"
"He's fine. He's standing on you."
"Well tell him to get a job!"
A quick moment to talk about Akhim.
We brought Akhim home July of last year. He was twenty something then. At the time, he was a very old, old cat, who had been living in a house with another cat, three dogs, and smokers, so it was not surprising that he spent most of his day sleeping and moved very slowly. The intention upon bringing him home was to give him a place where he could comfortably, quietly, pass away.
This is a picture of Akhim the day we brought him home:
|Photo courtesy of our roommate, Matt|
By now, you may be thinking this is a memorial post, or a "my kitty is dying" message. It is not. Because in the last year, I've become convinced the cat is aging backwards and should have been named Merlin.
This is a much more recent picture of Akhim:
|Photo also courtesy of our roommate, Matt|
He's put on weight, he grooms himself, he climbs on things, he tears across the apartment chasing things only he can see, he turns the faucet on, he sits on character sheets during gaming, he plays with Tootsie Pops (inexplicably, his favorite toy), he wakes us up in the morning by brushing his tail across my face and sitting on Dorian's, he steals food he has no business eating (pizza, lemon cookies, saltines, and anything involving fried potatoes), mingles at parties, tolerates grabby babies, demands cuddles, and--when we're sad--he mimics what he sees when Dorian and I kiss by tilting his head and bopping his nose to ours multiple times.
He wakes us up when the alarm goes off, but lets us sleep in on the weekends, he greets anyone who enters the apartment as a friend, he demonstrates he understands some English. When he wants your attention, he taps you on the shoulder.
I didn't like cats before Akhim. I'm allergic, I grew up around dogs, and most cats I'd been introduced to were generally jerks. It was a while before I stopped insisting that I liked Akhim, and since I liked him, clearly he was a phouka, not a cat.
But I'm pretty sure that objective studies would conclude that Akhim is the best cat to ever exist. Our cat is awesome.
|Photo by Matt. I'm not sure why Akhim is so reflective in this. He doesn't look like that, and the photo on my machine doesn't look like that, either, but the upload's colors are much less saturated. Ah well, it's a cute photo.|