"I Do What I Want": An Explanation

So, we have a couple of cats. A brother and sister named Jem and Scout. Both kids are really sweet. Yes, we are those people who think our cats are our kids, so don't go there.  My husband and I are in the process of raising two bipedal kids, who we hope will be good humans with respect for others and manners and all that hoo-haw, and who will hopefully make positive contributions to society and not hurt people. I hear we aren't doing too badly, except maybe the bits when they are left alone with me and we eat ice cream and watch inappropriate movies.*  Anyway, they are good kids who know how to behave themselves and don't talk back or act like brats. Ever. The cats, not so much...

The boy, Jem, is practically perfect in every way, and he is sort of my baby. He has the best purr box and a little kitty boy meow that makes you melt. People typically think he is the girl because he is just so pretty...er, handsome. No, dang it, he is pretty. He is not, however, a small kitty, clocking in around 20 lbs. Yes, there is a little extra weight, but he is also just a big cat.  

The girl, Scout, is smaller, coming in around 12 lbs of solid sass. She is beautiful in her own way, but not quite as striking as her brother. She has a big, bossy meow, which is appropriate since she is The Boss. (At least until Brother sits on her to clean her, then she is Mad Kitty who is stuck.)  

While my Boy is relatively well behaved, he does get away with things occasionally, like sleeping in the wooden salad bowl. We don't really use it for salad because it is beautiful and also because the cat has now slept in it. It mostly holds fruit, which he either kicks out or sleeps on. Oh, and he doesn't actually fit IN the bowl. Here is an older photo from when he was smaller and still sort of fit in the bowl.

The Girl, on the other hand, is a Daddy's Girl like you can't imagine. She gets away with almost everything, only being told 'no' if she gets on the kitchen counter or if she scratches the new chairs in the sitting room. Otherwise, the world is her oyster. Very early on, like before her eyes were even open, like the day she was born, there was something about her that I knew was trouble. Not evil, just pure scamp. She gets away with things my children would never even dream of doing, and my husband is totally OK with it. His theory is that the cats are not being groomed (get it?) to go out into society and be functioning adults. They do not need to follow any rules of etiquette or exhibit any acceptable social behaviors, as they will never be social. (They shan't go out amongst the great unwashed!) There is no need to teach them manners or rules or boundaries, except the whole kitchen counter bit. 

When I ask, which I do frequently, "Scout, what are you doing?" My husband replies "Mama, I do what I want." And so she does. That is who she is. . and when I decided to start writing this thing instead of ranting to my family and friends, I realized something that shocked me more than it should have...

I am Scout!  I have a bit of a mean streak. I only like people I know, and even then it depends on my mood. I don't really care what other people think. If I don't know you I can ignore you, and sometimes even if I do know you. I pretty much do whatever strikes my fancy, and I have been known to say something sassy to my husband. I don't usually make my own food, if I mention wanting something my husband usually makes it happen, and I am obviously completely spoiled. Oh, and the best pillow on the bed is mine. OK, I am not as pretty as Scout, nor could I balance on the banister, but I don't really wanna, so that is fine. 

 See, I do what I want...


*Inappropriate Movies are like Christmas Icetastrophe, not Chainsaw Vixens VII. I love all sorts of really bad "-tastrophe" movies. Movie Snob Man (AKA Husband) voices objection to any "-tastrophe" movies but is mildly curious about this Vixen thing I just made up.