Chicago Squish vs. Russian Blue

A few months back I acquired a cat from the Anti-Cruelty Society. They have a shelter a few blocks from my apartment in River North. Why this particular cat was selected (and why I needed a cat, really) is a long story, but suffice it to say that I ended up taking home Kan, a Russian Blue.

This goofy little guy spent the majority of his first two weeks on North Canal St. beneath the bed. Rest assured, however, that not one minute after the lights went out, he could be heard scampering about the place, seemingly taking stock of his new 950 square ft. domain. In time, the shy little bastard would become quite comfortable with the apartment and its human inhabitants. He would also quickly prove to have quite the personality. Honestly, I think he's certifiable. Much of the time, he's just another fluffy fixture in the place, an ornamental still-life inconveniently posted on an armrest or chair. Other times, he's bug eyed, skittish as hell, and spends an exorbitant amount of energy sporadically careening around the hardwood floors, sliding head-first into walls and cupboards, and squeeking (yes, it's more of a squeek than a meow) at anyone who will pay attention. Oddly enough, if you even glance his way during one of these "episodes" he'll flip out, take off, rinse-and-repeat. This can go on for the better part of an evening.

Other times, he likes to play fetch… seriously, "fetch." I mean, he's a goddang ca… whatever. He's actually very particular about which "toys" are allowed in this little game of his. And we're not talking balls or bones or squeeky toys. No, Kan's got a thing for hair ties. You know, those little black, stretchy things chics use to lasso groupings of stray hairs? He freaking loves those things. I mean, look at this guy! That's him snagging one in mid-air... with demon eyes...

Kan goes apeshit every time you fire one of those babies across the room, and he will actually bring it back, though his spacial awareness does need some work. Most of the time he'll drop off his quarry several yards from your comfy perch in the recliner and squeek persistently until you do something about it. He also occasionally decides the hair tie is too dry, and will soak it in his water dish before depositing it on your foot.

He does other things, too, like swan dive off of the shelf/wall around my bedroom, hurtling down at unholy speeds towards my amorphous, slumbering, oblivious, comforter-ensconsed form below. Note: this only occurs between the hours of midnight and 3AM. Fortunately, he can also be insanely adorable. Like when he curls up on my lap while I'm watching The Wire (not so much when he plops down on my open laptop). Or rubs his head against mine and rolls around on his back so I can ruffle his tummy fur. Or when he sits by my pillow at night until I lift the blanket enough for him to scramble underneath to get some shut-eye (this may be a winter phenomenon, since my heater sucks and I'm rocking sub-60 degree temperatures on the regular).

All that craziness adds up to Kan being one unique dude. So, I mean, what do I do if he slams into the front door one too many times or beefs it when misjudging a nocturnal pounce at altitude? I don't want another boringass cat. Too bad Kan came pre-neutered...