This is Colonel Mustard. He’s often the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night. In the evening, he likes to sit on my chest while I’m in bed and trying to read a book. He’ll swat at the pages until I pet him, and when I do, he purrs like a lawn mower tearing down some tall grass. In the morning, he follows me into the bathroom and talks to me while I’m trying to brush my teeth. He is a small, furry, very demanding child.
I have had Mustard — he also goes by Moo Moo, Moutard, The Colonel, The Kern-Dog and Dijonaisse (when he’s feeling saucy) — for going on three years. He was a rescue that I took on as a foster, but when I saw his huge paws — he’s got 7 toes on each front paw and six on the back — I knew I had to keep him. He sheds a lot, and twice yearly, he gets his bushy Maine Coon fur shaved into a lion cut. He also talks a lot. Like, all the time. And when he’s not talking, he’s purring, very loudly. It is crazy. Keep reading »