This is Mr. Muscles. He’s an American Shorthair, named by my then-six-year-old son when we got him ten years ago. Ruben wanted a “guard cat”. He got this stubborn yet beautiful, slightly dysfunctional rescue instead. Mr. Muscles had no interest in befriending a child at the time, so he became my cat soon after we brought him home. Or did I become his?
Seriously, I think my cat believes I am his mate. I mean, he’s never tried to mate with me, but he does seem to think I physically belong to him and him alone. I have evidence:
He is obsessed with me. Every single time I sit or lie down anywhere in the house, he will find me. And he will climb onto me, purring. Loudly. Whether I’m eating breakfast, taking a nap, reading a book, putting my shoes on, or just generally trying to get anything unrelated to him done, there he is. Other people, not so much.
He is aggressively affectionate. Once he’s found his comfy spot on my lap, my chest, or even my head, he proceeds to get real aggressive about his need for my attention. Head butting and licking, of course, but then he moves on to love bites and biscuit making. These are all typical cat behaviors, I know. Mr. Muscles, though, likes to make biscuits on my bare neck… with his claws. He likes to bite my chin so hard he leaves marks! And let me tell you what — he does not take no for an answer. Sometimes the only way to get him to leave me alone is to be just as aggressive, cuddling him snugly until he runs away.
He hates my husband. Well, that’s what my husband claims anyway. He sent me this picture once as “proof”, but I wasn’t buying its authenticity.
I have however seen how the cat lies in wait in the darkened hallway to scratch him as he walks by. Personally, I don’t think it’s out of hate so much as jealousy. He wants my husband to back off his chick, and he can’t figure out why the guy isn’t getting it! The cat also loves to sleep between us in bed. (When he’s not actually lying atop me, that is!) I mean, that’s clearly a way to stake his claim, right? He knows what goes on in that bed when he’s not around.
So there you have it. Mr. Muscles thinks we’re married. Of course, it might just be because he knows I’m the only one who will put up with him. He knows where to get his snuggles because I’ll always give them! What can I say? I’m a sucker for the furry little guy.