Spunky Jack

I know I promised to pace myself on the cats, but I feel really guilty that Jack, the baby of the bunch, has yet to take top billing.  He doesn’t say much, but I can tell his feelings are hurt.  Here’s Jack as a kitten-little bit of a thing with huge ears and paws to grow into-

Jack is the classic rough and tumble boy; picking fights with his sisters and then making up by grooming them; thwacking them on the head right after he cleans their face; annoying me with his craziness and then looking unbearably adorable.  He and Chrissy are bestest buds

When we first brought him home we called him Goat Boy because the meal he most enjoyed was paper.  We had to put away napkins, paper towels, tissues, mail, newspapers, books, magazines…origami birds…so he wouldn’t eat them (we didn’t really have origami birds, but it sounded good for the story).  Fortunately he outgrew that phase and we relaxed our standards a little.

Jack owns the island in the kitchen.  He paces around his domain constantly looking for intruders…but is somehow oblivious when they sneak up on him.  He likes to hang his tail over the island and flick it, and is shocked when Chrissy and Janet start swatting it.  Sometimes he dozes off a little close to the edge, goes for a stretch and rolls right off.  He’s really good with the “I meant to do that” look.

While Chrissy is my pick me up and carry me around fiend, Jack plays it cool all day.  But as soon as I get in bed he cuddles up and purrs and snuggles in my neck (my neck gets a lot of snuggling from these guys).  When he’s really purring hard he starts treading my shoulder and at least earns his keep around here by giving me awesome massages.

Jack’s favorite toy is a pink and white tennis ball kind of thing.  I think it’s great that he is secure enough in his manhood to play with pink toys.  He plays a lot of vigorous soccer games on the kitchen floor, competing against himself.  Like his sisters he’s prone to knocking his toys under the refrigerator or bookcase, but he magically flattens himself like a flounder and manages to get his toy back.  His athletic prowess is impressive, but typically leaves him exhausted.

He is for sure the cat that is the least bothered by my singing.  Jumpin’ Jack Flash is a gas, gas, gas…