Life with Smoc has been a bucket of fun.
I remember when we brought him home: at first he was pretty dependent on us, coming where we were, walking bandy-legged.
Then he got the hang of us and of the world and he began doing whatever he wanted… like hiding in the sofa through a hole he found in the back and letting us look for him desperately for minutes in a row. He wasn’t allowed to sleep in bed, he had his basket and pillow by the radiator in the bathroom.
That was until we all noticed how cute he looked curled up at our feet. So we started to pay attention to how we move our feet during the night so we wouldn’t hit him. And he started moving from someone’s bed to the other so he would get as much attention as possible.
In my case he even ended up sleeping on my pillow while I was sleeping next to it. He found great toys in ones toes especially in the middle of the night.
He was the best alarm clock in the world. The cutest too. He had no snooze button so getting to work on time was no problem.
In case he was unsuccessful with a quiet meow he would in turns: stare, tread, touch your nose (even if carefully tucked under the blanket) and eventually bite.
When our apartment was broken into and I walked in finding everything turned upside-down, I couldn’t care less about what they took, I entered the house calling his name worried and afraid he might be hurt or catnapped.
The moment I saw him coming out from between the piles of things spread around the house was the moment I knew it was time to call the police.
Loud noises in the night can be scary. After Smoc showed up loud noises in the night were the reason behind the question: “What has he done this time?”.
The answers were: pull down the curtains, slam the flower pots, spill the vase, climb on the fridge for his food, fall off something, bang his head in the shoe closet etc. Some of his deeds were most of the time too funny and adorable to turn one mad, even if they were committed in the middle of the night.
What he was very good at doing at night is offer someone company. He often curled up by my side with his head on my pillow or shoulder and purr himself to sleep. Also when there was a power outage and I was home alone (and scared in the dark) he came by my side and just put his paw on me as if he were saying “I am here”.
To tell you the honest truth, as long as he was in the house with me I knew I wasn’t alone.
He always listened, always replied, always kept company for supper, shower, nap time, movies, tennis matches (funny, he once followed with interest a Fed vs Rafa match… for about 3 minutes) and he was always where everybody was sitting.
I want to believe that he was well taken care of, pampered and appreciated. I know he won the sympathy of some non cat-people too. And above all this I know that he was so so loved.