Epic Troll Kitty

I’ve been writing about a lot of things that piss me off, and I think it’s time I write about something that I love that also pisses me off about half the time: my epic troll kitty.

Here he is dreaming about my demise:

Starbuck

Starbuck

Make no mistake, his outward calm demeanor here is merely a mask for his murderous intentions.

Just look at the murder in his eyes here. This is him when we first found him, and that’s my old rat Mindy. Did she really die peacefully of old age in her cage? Or was it all part of Starbuck’s plan?

Starbuck meets the ratties for the first time.

Starbuck meets the ratties for the first time.

He usually spends his days prowling around outside the bedroom and the bathroom. If we let him in the bedroom, he terrorizes the rats and tries to poop in the corner behind the bed. If we let him in the bathroom he seeks to lower my morale by destroying all the toilet paper.

Whatever you do, don’t break eye contact.

Whatever you do, don’t break eye contact.

When he’s not prowling around those doors and attacking whatever feet happen to be nearby, he’s running and jumping wildly around the living room and kitchen. He climbs the blinds, tries to destroy computer wires and seeks to be king of the mountain by jumping to the top of the book case and knocking down anything that was stacked up there.

Petting is always done on his terms.

Petting is always done on his terms.

When it gets to be too much, and he needs to calm down, I take all the toilet paper (and the trash can) out of the bathroom and put him in there with his favorite toys. I let him out after about 30 minutes. Or I put on a shirt and open the blinds so he can stare menacingly outside. I resent the fact that he makes me put on a shirt in my own home, but it calms him down.

Distractions save lives.

Distractions save lives.

Now, this may all sound like just normal kitten stuff.

“That’s what all kittens do!” You might be saying. But this is no ordinary kitten. Oh no. He seeks out and destroys my fiance’s chapstick. On purpose. As a test I put the chapstick on the counter, underneath a pile of wires, actual cat toys and broken AAA batteries. Within 30 seconds he sniffed out the chapstick and left all the other stuff. My fiance bought a packet of about 15 chapsticks, so we started storing them in the 3-drawer storage bin next to the couch. The drawers are transparent, but when closed they are flush with the outside of the bin. Starbuck witnessed us put all his beloved chapstick in the drawer and spent 10 minutes frantically pawing at them from the outside. This must mean one thing: troll kitty wants my fiance to suffer from severely chapped lips.

Bite marks after a kitten attack.

Bite marks after a kitten attack.

He only sleeps on top of it. That bastard.

He only sleeps on top of it. That bastard.

We also bought him a little house to sleep in. It has a comfortable spot inside that he can hide in, and it has a fluffy top that he can sit on top of. It also has a scratching post and little balls with bells inside that dangle off the edge for him to play with. We thought he could have fun playing with the bells, and that he would scratch on the post now instead of the couch. Well, the scratching post sort of worked, now he scratches on that AND on the couch. But, he ripped off one of the balls with the bell and destroyed it, and he ignores the other one. He also spends his time doing everything he can to destroy the little house. When he’s done with it, it looks like it was hit by a tiny indoor tornado (or perhaps Sharknado??).  He treats the house we got him with either hatred or contempt. We fought back by taping the corners of the house together, so it won’t fall to pieces when he attacks it. He responded by trying to chew off all the tape.

Extent of destruction after being kitty-proofed.

Extent of destruction after being kitty-proofed.

He’s also a relentless prowler. I can tell he’s in the mood to hunt: his tail goes straight out and then whips back and forth violently, his eyes widen and the pupils dilate, and he watches every move I make. The moment I turn my back WHAM! cat in my face. He will walk up slowly, bite my hand, arm or leg and then run away the moment I turn around. He also attacks my legs as I walk around the apartment. I try to keep a stash of bottle caps and chapstick lids so that I can walk across the living room safely. If I think he’s going to attack me the moment I turn my back, I just throw a bottle cap across the room and he goes chasing after it.

He even bites in his sleep.

He even bites in his sleep.

He’ll pretend to be sleepy, and cuddle up in my lap. Then when my guard is down, he bites my hands, arms, legs, and face. I’ve learned to recognize the signs. His tail will get all twitchy. If I’m lucky he’ll start by trying to eat his own tail. It looks cute at first, because his eyes are squinty from still being sleepy. But it soon turns murderous when he grabs my hand with his paws and scoops it toward his mouth. He always immediately starts kicking with his back legs. Usually I can get out of this by grabbing the scruff of his neck with my other hand.

I’m just lucky he can’t get his back legs in on this one.

I’m just lucky he can’t get his back legs in on this one.

None of this really matters though, because I still love the little guy–trolling and all.

Do NOT scratch his belly!

Do NOT scratch his belly!

P.S.  I caught him trying to eat a tampon once, and another time he threw up a used condom.

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