Erratic Project Junkie: Bailey, "The Attitude"

Ok. I have prefunked myself with some delicious ShockTop Raspberry Wheat in order to coax myself into blogging today. I've been feeling incredibly lazy lately so I'm just as amazed as you are that I'm managing to pull this crap together.

And...just to keep your spirits up about this whole nine posts thing...we're only two posts away from an actual project! Holy cow! I know..you're shocked right? Yup. In two more posts you will be seeing a project along with my rundown on the magnificent Picabo. If you're lucky, I may also have a video to post that day...don't hold your breath though people...I may save it for another day (can't give you all the gems at once).

So we have now moved on to the middle children. Today you get grumpy Bailey. Seriously. If he was a WWE wrestler, his name would be "The Attitude".

I warned you. Grumpy.

Bailey is our poor little "special ed" kitty. He is a flame point Siamese and probably our worst shedder. He may quite possibly be a little inbred and he acts just a little different. While our other cats are overly social, Bailey definitely has the aloof cat attitude cornered.

I got Bailey from a mall pet store (I know - horror right?) in a moment of weakness in 2004. He ended up being my birthday present that year. He was just a tiny little white ball of fluff. He was more social that his sister, which is why I chose him over her. Now...he's the most antisocial of our three cats, go figure.

I like how he used to look like he just stuck his tongue in the light socket.

Bailey's right eye points slightly outward, so if you look at him head-on you can tell that he's a little off. He's definitely my kitty - he gets grumpy with most other people. He has hissed at just about everyone he's ever met. He's kind of like an old man with hiked up pants in a cat body. Cantankerous is the word you're looking for here.

But he loves to come sit with me. Actually...maul might be a more correct term. He loves to put his face in my hair and paw at my shoulder while purring loudly. This is apparently called "kneading" and is a security mechanism. He's done this since he was a baby. It sounds cute, but it hurts like crap. He doesn't knead softly. Instead, he digs his paws right into my shoulder blades.

Hanging out on my shoulder...without the pawing.

Bailey is a chubby and lazy kitty. He sleeps more than the other two cats combined. For a while we were convinced that he had diabetes (even calling him "Diabetus Kitty" in a Wilford Brimley voice) until our vet informed us that cats with diabetes are typically very skinny. Hmm...definitely not.

You can typically find Bailey passed out on the back of the family room chair or on our bed. He has a little spot about halfway down the bed on my side that he religiously naps in. He also likes to hide under the couches - mostly on the heater vent behind the family room couch. Sometimes I don't see him for hours and I have to track him down just to make sure I haven't locked him in a closet somewhere. He's a stubborn poop, so calling for him will get you nowhere unless he's hungry. You're searching high and low whether you like it or not.

He also does not like to be bothered when he is napping. If you try to wake him up or move him he will make a very whiny noise to let you know that he is not pleased. He will then find a new location and take a new nap - generally in a spot that is even more inconvenient than the first.

Whenever I'm scrapbooking he manages to follow me upstairs and wait until I leave my chair to grab something from a drawer or shelf. After being gone for literally 30 seconds, I nearly always turn to find him comfortably resting in my seat.

Oh, you wanted to scrapbook? So sad, this is now my napping chair.

Bailey can also be a bit of a drama queen. He is very demanding about being let into the bedroom and about getting fed. He will paw at the door and make quite a loud ruckus if he is not let in. Between his antics and Picabo's (we'll get to him), we have to lock the bedroom door at night. It's honestly like being in a hotel and being woken up at 7am every morning "Housekeeping, housekeeping"...only we get it in Morse Code.

Once you relent and open the door, he will bawl at you until you put food in his bowl. Loudly, in case you think he's not serious. I swear he has a built in clock. By 9am every morning and 10pm every night he's griping. We initially started putting the cats in the utility room at night in the hopes that we would be able to sleep in, but he figured out how to lay on his side to open the utility room pocket door, so we now have to lock them in to get a few extra hours.

In 2008, we almost lost Bailey. He has a urinary tract disease that resulted in our rushing him to the vet in a late night emergency. He was catheterized and placed on IV antibiotics when the crystals that developed in his urine caused a blockage. He was a very expensive little kitty (my mom likes to say that my pets have cost me more than her three kids), but without that extra treatment the vet said he wouldn't have made it through the night alive. He now has to be fed special food to prevent the buildup.

Unfortunately, every now and then he still has issues. We have had two other vet visits since 2008 due to the same problem - though not to the same degree - and he occasionally has accidents. Our vet knows him all too well. It's not my favorite thing to deal with, but I've learned that it's worth it. When I thought he wasn't going to make it I really started to understand how much the goofball means to me.