I Can Haz Your Face?

Franklin has been added to the LolCats library. Take a gander:

http://cheezburger.com/TemplateView.aspx?ciid=9106042

It really captures his personality.

Bless (Damn) You

Yesterday my cat sneezed directly in my face.

Imagine a human doing the same. You can't, without wanting to punch them.

Franklin knows. He KNOWS!

Franklin "Meaty Log" Gallagher

I don't think there would be too much of a dispute over what the worst part of owning a pet is--dealing with their waste. Dogs require walking and poop-scooping. Birds just let it fly anywhere. Rodents...well, let's not go into what I've seen guinea pigs do. And then there are cats, and their ever-disgusting litter box.

Franklin doesn't seem to like his litter box. We've tried switching boxes, increasing the frequency of cleanings, and even changed to this hippie cedar litter (which I recommend, by the way, if for no other reason than the biodegradability and lack of toxic dust). But no matter where the box is placed, no matter what we try, he just LOVES to shit outside the box. Often, on the box rim, or (this one's a treasure) on the baseboard heater nearest the box.

Forget thinking outside the box. This cat takes his biological functions into account when attempting to self-actualize, apparently. Boundaries mean nothing. This is the same animal that prefers to drink water when there are ten to fifteen pieces of kibble floating in it.

I KNOW he free-dumps on purpose. When we lived in our last apartment he looked at me WHILE he did it. By the time I reacted, the bomb was dropped on Nagasaki, aka my clean kitchen floor. Yes, I just compared my cat, albeit vaguely, to Harry Truman.

Now, crap is crap. It's germy, smelly and disgusting no matter how much is there. But I think it's worth it to remind you all that Franklin is close to 25 pounds. Therefore, his waste is relatively epic. That's how I know for sure that none of Shit-anywhere Parties can be traced to Sarah--to do such a deed would literally mean that a she released a log 1/4 of her length. I'd photograph the product in question, but I'm not that crude.

Actually, have I recently showed the size difference between Franklin and Saranac? Take a look! He's a monster. If they were matryoshka dolls, she'd fit inside him, no problem. Once, when my husband and I were trying to rent out our apartment, a toothless prospective renter took one look at him and screeched, "Is that a cat?!" I wanted to answer smartly and tell her no, that's a camel, or a mastadon, or even a mythical beast of my own creation, but I understood her point. He's big. To quote Fight Club - he's the way you think of gods as big. Only we all know that there is nothing godly about him.

Lately, more so than a surly bus driver, Frankie's reminding me of a guy who goes to the bowling alley more often than he goes to work, who smells of beer and french fries and always looks as though he's hiding several bowling balls under his clothing. I have seen many such men. I never dreamed that I would live with one who has been jammed into a cat's body.

Oh, what harm can a CAT do?

Let me SHOW you what harm a cat can do...




Despite the similarity in appearance, that is NOT lipstick.


Now, I've known plenty of cat haters in my time, and I certainly don't want to give them fodder for their distaste. I'm also not suggesting that all cats will or want to do this to their LOVING OWNERS. I am merely submitting more evidence to support what many have long known: that
this cat as a devil inside him.


And an angel! However, the devil is stronger. Oh, believe it.


This is the story of Kelly's Cut Lip:
I work from home. I awoke later than I wished, and scrambled to my laptop to begin the day's assignments. I found than not only did I have a lot more work than I anticipated on a day when I had to leave my home and travel up to my friends' wedding...I also couldn't concentrate. Meanwhile, *Franklin paced. And meowed. Then yowled. Then he tore up my husband's character sheets with his teeth (yes, my husband is a Gamer Nerd, and my GOD that paper tears louder than any other paper commonly found in modern American households). I yelled at Frankie to stop, give him food, offer catnip, etc. NOTHING stopped him.

{Repeat from * for about twenty more minutes.}

Finally, Franklin started pawing at the door, which is always the most infuriating thing of all, not only because it is loud, but because if you were to actually open the door he'd be too terrfied to actually GO anywhere. I ran over, picked him up, and said, "Franklin, do you want attention?"


Swipe.
Slice.
Alleluia, bloody lip. I let out a mighty war cry and dropped him. He wasn't seen for about four hours. So, the beast DOES have some sense.

It was the first time he ever made me bleed. For others, bloody wounds is old news (unfortunately). But he'd never attacked Mama like that before.

Methinks his heart is darkening by the day.

Franklin's Arch Enemy: Objects Placed on Flat Surfaces

If you're in the Gallagher household, a bit of advice: never leave any object less than six inches from an edge. Even then, you may not be safe. Why? Because Franklin gets major jollies from intentionally knocking things over with his paws.

Scenario one: You're on the john and Franklin is watchng (a favorite pasttime of his--see my previous postings). He jumps up onto the sink searching for some super-excellent Middletown City Water to slurp up in the noisiest way possible, but when he finds none, he decides to tell you to turn on the faucet on. By knocking the following objects from the sink onto the floor/into the tub:

-contact lens case
-contact lens solutions
-soap dispenser
-face mask
-hairbrush

Scenario two: You're working on your computer, deep in thought, when the sound of paper rattling and tearing distracts you. You ignore it. Moments later, a meowing black beast jumps on the table next to your computer and proceeds to knock over your papers, clipboard, index cards, and other normal desk props. They fall with a dramatic crash. You rise, and the cat runs and hides, because he knows what he did and did it for fun.

Scenario three:

Do you dare watch a movie and not pay attention to Franklin? BIG MISTAKE! The pile of books you have stacked to donate the used book store will wind up all over your floor, and then, to make matter worse, the Satanic beast will then paw at all the covers--CATearing them, if you will.

Toiletries. Paper products. Dishware. Nothing is safe.

If Franklin is not knocking things over but is in AWFUL AWFUL Mode, he'll gallop through the apartment producing disturbingly loud beats, yowling at the top of his kitty lungs. I would also like to add that Alan just chastized him for eating a house plant.

Franklin on a Typical Morning

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=46dcGsiwuHY

The process of Franklin asking his humans to get up to feed him is excruciating, and once you're up, this high-pitched meow awaits. Voice on video: former roommate Sean Treacy. Site: former apartment in Wilton.

Ah, You Don't Believe We're on the Eve of Destruction

Okay so. I've mentioned that Franklin is destructive little beast, but those claims are meaningless without some photographic evidence. The first photograph to the left shows the hook and eye that Al had to install on our refrigerator door in Binghamton because our cat could pull the refrigerator open. On some occassions, unfortunately not documented, he even pulled food OUT of the fridge. Not cat food, mind you. One can't blame this on his instincts or hunger. He'd pull out bags of onions. Leftovers stored in plastic tubs. He was even able to get the crisper open.

Now, to be fair---the refrigerator door seals WERE faulty, so opening the fridge wasn't as hard for him as it might have been. But the fact is that he sought to do it BECAUSE HE KNEW HE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO. He would literally stare at you, meow, and then pull it open, and then walk away. A few times, when we'd forget to lock the fridge during a weekend away, we experienced quite a bit of spoilage. Just another drop in the bucket when it comes to supporting and tolerating my massive pet.




An aquamarine representation of Iraq? Modern art? No, it's Franklin's way of celebrating after he laid filth in his litter box. Seriously, every time he shit in the Binghamton house he CLAWED AND SCRAPED AT THE WALL when he was done, and this was the result.
The worse is when he'd crap outside the box...dirty, clean, it didn't matter...and then claw the wall. It sounded exactly like nails on a chalkboard. At the new apartment he does not do this. I will never understand.





The last photo shows Franklin's most recent masterpiece. It took me hours to get all of the dirt cleaned up, and people, this is what I woke up to. It was (of course) a Monday. Franklin's good at preying on the weekend-weary. I'm not sure if he was trying to eat my plant or mount it. Judging from his penchants, it could have been either.



The photos do go on, as to the stories. The shredded carpets. The broken mini-blinds. The chunks taken out of doors. The modem that he drowned. I'd enlighten you all with all of that, but I have to go stop him from trying to escape out the second story window. I wish I were kidding. I'm not.