“Ok, my cat, Peachue contributes nothing to our household. He yells at me and trips me up all the time. Insists on “treats”, food and water drips in the tub all the time. The only redeeming quality, is my boys love him and sometimes he sleeps at the bottom of my bed and warms my feet…that’s it! I shovel his crap 24-7 and vacuum his fur ..which is everywhere. Why do I love love this dude? He is a P(ain)-in-the A(ss)“
I saw this on Facebook and had to copy and paste it. I love my cat. Peachue sounds like he/she could be directly related to my little furry guy.
His name is Queeqweg, after the character in Melville’s “Moby Dick“. You know the one. The tattoo festooned harpooner from some exotic shore on the whaling vessel. Son of a king, as I remember. Or of some royal lineage or the other and from some Pacific island shore. Queeqweg used to be my wife’s cat. When she left, she said she could not take him, for a reason I don’t remember. That does not matter, for ever since, I became his cat. And everybody knows it.