The Story of Mim
Mim is two years old now. She's been with us for about a year and a half. In the vein of my posts for Olive & Nox, here's the story of Mim.
We didn't mean to have a Mim. We didn't mean to keep a Mim. But Mim is a force of nature. She came and she stayed and she won us over by sheer force of will.
It was a cold and rainy day in September. Nox was off at the vet, losing some of his boy-parts now that he'd recovered enough from his awful sinus infection to undergo surgery. Olive was lounging in the den, and I was working in the studio. Suddenly, I hear a loud and piteous crying. I run to the den, certain it's Olive. Who else could it be? But Olive looks at me to say 'hey, not it.'
And right outside our back door is a tiny kitten, all by herself, paws pressed to the glass, wailing her head off. Like the sucker I am, I opened the door. She came to the right house.
She was starving. The first thing I did was put down a bowl of wet food. She gobbled it, then immediately used the litterbox. A quick scratch at the scratching post, and then into my lap, fast asleep. This was no feral kitten. I got a good look at her, and she was wearing a filthy flea collar. An outdoor cat, extremely stupid in a suburban neighborhood, or an escapee. I somehow knew that her name was gonna be 'Mim,' while she was with us, and I called my husband to tell him the news.
I didn't do it!
We papered the neighborhood with 'found cat' signs. Left notices with local vets and rescues. Olive protested and growled at the foundling. The foundling gave everyone fleas, and that was an adventure I hope never to repeat.
Jason grumbled. A lot. The new kitten was a handful, spastic and constantly knocking things over. Her favorite thing to knock over was water glasses. Her nickname: "Mim-asaurus Wrecks." She has this look she gets right before she does something crazy. It looks like this:
Prepare for doom.
But weeks went by and no one called. We couldn't find her a good home. Olive reluctantly began to accept her as one of the pack.
...and Nox was In Love.
I came in from the studio one night to hear Jason having a conversation with... the cat. Telling her that she was annoying, but growing on him. He thought they could work out their differences. Welcome to the family, you little shit.
...and from that point on, Mim loved her dad.
Mim is a cat of many quirks. She's the most independent of our cats, but also the most affectionate towards strangers. She looooooooves people. She wants to convince you that no one loves her, and that you should take her home with you. Once we got her fixed, she started calming down and becoming quite a lovely little cat. More affectionate towards her mom (she's purring in my lap as I type), more loving towards Olive, and more chill in general. She takes on Nox, who's about twice her size, during playtime. So you see, she's not really our cat. She's our cats' cat, mostly. My favorite thing about Mim is that her tail gets as big and puffy as a raccoon's whenever she is happy. Not scared, happy. Our strange little cat.
She also sleeps like this:
...and looooooooves things that smell like mint...
There is one thing that is distinctly not pleasant about Mim, though. This cat? She has apocalyptic deuces. We've tried everything. Changing her diet, taking her to the vet, probiotics. It matters not. Her poos can kill a horse. And the farts...
marinatempest can tell you about her farts. She stores them up specially for those she loves most.
Happy birthday, Mim-asaurus Wrecks. You crazy cat. We love you.
We didn't mean to have a Mim. We didn't mean to keep a Mim. But Mim is a force of nature. She came and she stayed and she won us over by sheer force of will.
It was a cold and rainy day in September. Nox was off at the vet, losing some of his boy-parts now that he'd recovered enough from his awful sinus infection to undergo surgery. Olive was lounging in the den, and I was working in the studio. Suddenly, I hear a loud and piteous crying. I run to the den, certain it's Olive. Who else could it be? But Olive looks at me to say 'hey, not it.'
And right outside our back door is a tiny kitten, all by herself, paws pressed to the glass, wailing her head off. Like the sucker I am, I opened the door. She came to the right house.
She was starving. The first thing I did was put down a bowl of wet food. She gobbled it, then immediately used the litterbox. A quick scratch at the scratching post, and then into my lap, fast asleep. This was no feral kitten. I got a good look at her, and she was wearing a filthy flea collar. An outdoor cat, extremely stupid in a suburban neighborhood, or an escapee. I somehow knew that her name was gonna be 'Mim,' while she was with us, and I called my husband to tell him the news.
I didn't do it!
We papered the neighborhood with 'found cat' signs. Left notices with local vets and rescues. Olive protested and growled at the foundling. The foundling gave everyone fleas, and that was an adventure I hope never to repeat.
Jason grumbled. A lot. The new kitten was a handful, spastic and constantly knocking things over. Her favorite thing to knock over was water glasses. Her nickname: "Mim-asaurus Wrecks." She has this look she gets right before she does something crazy. It looks like this:
Prepare for doom.
But weeks went by and no one called. We couldn't find her a good home. Olive reluctantly began to accept her as one of the pack.
...and Nox was In Love.
I came in from the studio one night to hear Jason having a conversation with... the cat. Telling her that she was annoying, but growing on him. He thought they could work out their differences. Welcome to the family, you little shit.
...and from that point on, Mim loved her dad.
Mim is a cat of many quirks. She's the most independent of our cats, but also the most affectionate towards strangers. She looooooooves people. She wants to convince you that no one loves her, and that you should take her home with you. Once we got her fixed, she started calming down and becoming quite a lovely little cat. More affectionate towards her mom (she's purring in my lap as I type), more loving towards Olive, and more chill in general. She takes on Nox, who's about twice her size, during playtime. So you see, she's not really our cat. She's our cats' cat, mostly. My favorite thing about Mim is that her tail gets as big and puffy as a raccoon's whenever she is happy. Not scared, happy. Our strange little cat.
She also sleeps like this:
...and looooooooves things that smell like mint...
There is one thing that is distinctly not pleasant about Mim, though. This cat? She has apocalyptic deuces. We've tried everything. Changing her diet, taking her to the vet, probiotics. It matters not. Her poos can kill a horse. And the farts...
marinatempest can tell you about her farts. She stores them up specially for those she loves most.Happy birthday, Mim-asaurus Wrecks. You crazy cat. We love you.