He's NOT named after Ozzy Osbourne...

While mom and dad were up in New Jersey over the weekend, I was taking care of Ozzie and Kiko and Dusty. Plus the “outdoor cats” – which aren’t really my parents’ cats, but my mom has already named one of them “Cyclops” (because there’s something wrong with one of his eyes…). And once mom starts naming the cats, you know they’re gonna be around for a while. :)

When they lived in New Jersey, my parents acquired several cats that began as “outdoor cats.” In fact, Ozzie’s name came about from his original nickname – “O.C.,” which stood for “outdoor cat.” In time, the “O.C.” morphed into “Ozzie,” and now he’s a permanent INDOOR cat. (And it’s good that he already has a name, because “I.C.” makes me think of intensive care…)

My parents also seem to have a bit of bad luck in the “insane cat” department. In New Jersey, the insane cat’s name was RU – pronounced “roo”. Yep, RU – for Rutgers University, my brother’s alma mater. RU was a bizarre little cat. She had some kind of nervous condition that made her fur fall out in patches, and her temperament could best be described as “totally unpredictable.” Because she could, at times, act like a little half-bald, demon-possessed, schizophrenic feline, my parents kept her locked in the basement. Okay, she wasn’t literally “locked” in the basement. She just preferred the isolation of the basement to the cacophony of the main house. (And my parents had a huge basement, so it’s not like she didn’t have plenty of room to run around.) Now and then, when I was over at the house, I’d head down to the little living area in the basement, and sit on the couch to watch TV. Usually, RU would come over and lay on my lap, and for a while, everything would be nice and calm and RU would be a fairly normal lap cat. And then something would snap inside her erratic little head, and the claws would come out and the hissing would start and she’d leap off my lap in a flurry of flying fur – usually leaving me with a scratch or two.

RU, unfortunately, eventually went to the big litter box in the sky, where I can only hope she is a little more calm and collected. So these days, Kiko seems to have taken over as the resident insane cat. Actually, most of the time, Kiko is the sweetest cat you can imagine – she’ll lay on your lap, or let you hold her, or lick your face with kitty kisses… but she, also, can go from “nice and sweet” to “that’s it, I’m done with you, don’t ever touch me again” in about half a second. And then there’s Dusty – Dusty was rescued from the Austin Humane Society, and Kiko has never quite accepted her into the household. In fact, Kiko pretty much tries to attack Dusty any time the two happen to be within claw’s reach of each other. Which means that once again, my parents have a cat (Dusty) who has to be locked up in another room to prevent some sort of horrible feline rumble in the living room. It’s especially scary when Kiko is walking around with a switchblade and a tiny little pair of brass knuckles…

Kiko and Ozzie, however, get along great, as attested in this picture:

And here’s another picture of what happens when the “outdoor cats” don’t eat all their food quickly enough:

And here’s a picture that has absolutely nothing to do with cats, but I found it when I was hanging out WITH the cats over the weekend (I have a habit of looking through all my mom’s pictures when I’m at the house… my mom takes a LOT of pictures…) This is me and Patrick a couple years ago. Aren’t we adorable? Well, Patrick is, at least… :)