I can’t believe he was ever as fat as in the left photo. He was quite a little porker.
For the past year or so, Goblin has been getting less and less afraid of the vacuum. It first began as laziness stemming from old age. He was tired, dammit, and if that vacuum wasn’t coming straight at him, he was going to just lay there and keep a wary eye on it. This is an attitude I’ve been trying to cultivate since I first noticed it, so now when I vacuum I make a point of going to Goblin with the vacuum running to give him scritches and sweet words. Eventually, he was relaxed enough to flump over for a belly rub while the vacuum was running.
Today I decided to try to vacuum the chaise longue – aka “Boogie’s bed” – with Goblin still laying on it. He tolerated that, so I moved the vacuum hose closer to him. Before either of us knew what I was doing I was vacuuming him. Not only was I vacuuming him, but he liked it so much that he rolled over onto his back so I could vacuum his belly.
This is revolutionary! This cat sheds more than the other two combined. Being able to vacuum him is going to be a huge boon!
Well, really, G is for Goblin, but that means it’s for Boogie, because Goblin doesn’t know his name is Goblin. He thinks it’s Boogie.
All of this is my fault for confusing the poor guy and rarely calling him my his given name over the past 11 years. This cat has more nicknames than a GWB cabinet meeting. Boogie, Boogie Buns, Boogie Bonanza, Gobbyboullabaise, Boogins, Gobbybuhlin, Boogie Butt, Gobble, Gobbldegook, Goblinka… those are just a few of his nicknames, and that’s only a short list of those I’ve used this month. Funny thing, while I was writing this, I remembered that I once, years ago, before Xena and Joxer existed, posted a list of some of the names we used for Demon and Goblin, which you can read here in the older archives. It’s funny how a couple of those have stuck, and also that we weren’t calling him Boogie yet then. I’m not sure when we started calling him that, but it stuck pretty hard, and now he thinks it’s his name.
Goblin is my stalker kitty, with a strong need to always be within eye-shot of me or Scott. Fortunately for him, we spend a lot of time in the living room, which means he can plant his wide furry butt on the chaise – as in the above two photos* – and keep an eye on us all day. He does this sort of creepy thing where he stares at one of us and purrs. He can do this for 15-20 minutes at a time, which gets disconcerting.
Over the past year or so, but particularly since Demon died, we’re starting to realize that maybe Goblin isn’t as stupid as we once thought he was. I once compared him to an elephant crossed with a goldfish, but I’m not so sure now that that’s a fair assessment. For example, he frequently shows signs of basic cognitive thinking, in that he can plan several actions in advance in order to achieve a goal. We often see this when he’s trying to decide how to get to the back of the couch from the floor, when he knows we don’t want him there and will block him. He sits there and you can obviously see him plotting his path. He looks at the back of the couch, then at the chaise, then at the windowsill, then back at the chaise, then to the arm of the couch, then back to the back of the couch. After careful consideration, that is exactly the path he takes: floor to chair to windowsill to back of chaise to arm of couch to back of couch. Sometimes he makes a stop on the side table, too. Just to keep it fresh.
We call these maneuvers his Rube Gobberg machine.
As you can see from the photo above, Boogie’s a fairly portly little fellow. He’s meant to be rather a small cat, maybe 10 pounds or so, but he does, in fact, weigh slightly over 16 pounds. At a recent trip to the vet for a checkup, we were worried the vet would yell at us for letting him get so large, but to both my and Scott’s surprise, the vet was fine with Gobble’s weight, because it’s stayed constant. So at least he’s not ballooning. But as you can see from the second photo, his fat is so copious that it rolls up around his eyes. Alex dubbed that “eye fat,” which has become another of Boogie’s nicknames. Somehow, I don’t think he’ll ever come running to that one the way he does to Boogie.
*Note the fine patina of cat hair on the throw pillows in those photo, too. I kept those pillow away from the cats for years, which also meant keeping them from the people, so I finally decided to start using them. They were covered in a grey mist of cat hair within days, and I’ve never been able to get it off. Turns out, cleaning cat hair off beaded dupioni silk? Doesn’t really work so well, even with a Dyson.