I call it two things: "Lucky To Be Alive" and "Evil Incarnate."
It's lucky to be alive (technically "it" is a "he," but I'm mad at it right now and refuse to personify it with any dignity) because it chewed three quarters of the way through the power cord of the very netbook I'm typing on right now. Even if the netbook is unplugged, the power cord is ALWAYS plugged in, so I know that must have been quite a shock. I only wish I had been here to witness the ensuing melee because it would have been payback for all the traumas inflicted upon me by this creature everyone calls "cute."
That's just one of the many things its done to risk its life and my sanity, but I'm posting today to discuss its alter ego: Evil Incarnate.
Evil has lots of old tricks--biting my hand when I pick it up, biting my shoulder when I pick it up, biting my toes if they dare peak out of the bed covers. And when I say "bite," I'm not talking about a little love nip, like the kind our other cat occasionally gives. No, I'm talking "this-cat-had-better-have-a-rabies-shot-every-year-or-there's-going-to-be-trouble" biting. It draws blood, in other words. Every time. It's serious about something; I just wish I knew what. I mean, really, what has it got against my toes? Not to mention the fact that I now, unexpectedly, have to buy a new power cord for my netbook, after dropping a huge dime on a digital SLR camera and starter lens.
Evil now has a new trick. Every night I go to bed, Evil creeps up and wraps itself around my head so that its front paws are touching my right ear and, its back paws, my left (I'm a back sleeper). This kitty crown would be convenient because it certainly keeps me warm. There's only one problem: I'm slightly allergic to cats. Having one that close to my nose means I'm going to become congested which, in turn, means that I will need to play a little of what I call "nostril tag."
Anyhoo, this nighttime tiara of mine induces my allergies, so I need to deploy "Operation Nostril Tag." Except for one problem. Every time I try to turn over, my crown of Evil bites the shit out of my right ear, digs its front claws into my head, and does the bunny hop on my skull with its back claws. If you find that cute, I suggest you Google "BDSM" and "furries" because you're clearly into something I'm not. (And yes, that is my flagrant, and by now generic, attempt at pushing this URL up in the Google rankings; I had to find a way to work it in somehow).
So it looks like Evil will be sleeping alone from now on because, while I've always wanted to be queen, I'm not selling my soul or enduring everlasting punishment for it.