This is Smog. Before I tell you too much about Smog, I should tell you that I have never been able to successfully pick out a proper cat. I’m okay with the factory rejects, though. THEY NEED LOVE TOO.
We rented Smog from the Cat Shop several weeks earlier than we ought to have been able to. She was seperated from her kin far too young (four weeks, they say), and nursed on everything she could. Which was, of course, adorable. However, I’m fairly certain it has also caused brain damage.
Smog is most famous for walking in to a room and announcing “I’m a —“, where “—” is anything from “tibby tubbler” (we don’t know either) to “speed bump”. For several weeks after the #doges arrived at Chez Relaxo, Smog announced she was a dog. She is the sort of cat who learns (read: makes up) a new word and uses it extensively for the next six weeks. She thinks “the outside” is anything on the side of the door on which she is not.
This cat likes digging up every house plant I have ever tried to grow, sleeping on the third stair from the top, and getting “skeert” and running away. She is, however, one of the only cats I’ve ever had who actually knows how to play with cat toys.
Seen here laughing at a joke that really wasn’t very funny at all, Smog can often be found running away, eating dog food, and judging you for being in the bath.