Post last updated: October 10th, 2018
I’m looking to you experts for help with Whiskey’s family tree. I’m thinking there is something funky about it.
First, I should confess. A number of you thought that I would weaken in my resolve to maintain Whiskey as a yard cat. I was certain you were wrong. It turns out you were half right. As the night-time temps dropped to a shivering 55 degrees, I started letting him in the house between midnight and 6 a.m.
Rather than sleep on the carpeted floor as I intended, he headed straight for my bed and then turned to look at me with that expression, “Aren’t you coming?”
I shrugged and joined him. For the first time since his arrival in early February, he began to purr like a motorboat with the throttle wide open. I had been under the impression his purr thingie didn’t work or was possibly broken.
As the cold nights persisted and he continued to think of my bed as his rightful place, I began to wonder if he was part hog. I offer the following as compelling evidence.
On the night of November 13, I couldn’t understand why he was cuddled up to my back like velcro. When I got up for some reason, I saw that his intent was not to cuddle with me. Rather, he was trying to get as much of his fat ass on my heating pad as he could and fully one-third of it was in his possession.
A few nights later, I found myself sleeping on the edge of the bed and, again, I couldn’t understand why I was hugging the edge when I usually sleep towards the middle. This is the reason I was on the edge:
Do you think it’s possible Whiskey has some hog in his DNA?