The Rocky Show

I'm currently in a serious dispute with Kleio right now. I haven't had this much trouble knitting lace since I first started knitting lace. (it's not the pattern, it's totally me). While I'm tinking back several rows of 280-some-odd stitches each, I thought I'd give you a little more Rocky.

Long time readers may know some of this, but there are probably some tidbits you don't know.

Rocky is our youngest. (Tux is actually the middle-child for all that he's Top Cat). Rocky was a barn kitten, brought home from my grandparents' barn - the last surviving kitten in a litter of five. (The others got an infection of some sort and didn't make it)

This is what he looked like when I brought him home that night.

Baby barn cat!

Scrawny, filthy and full of almost every parasite you could think of (fleas, lice, ear mites, worms....).
But after a bath, a trip or two to the vet, and some regualr feedings, he plumped right up into a normal healthy little kitten.

Plumped up!

Dave hadn't yet moved in, and I managed to keep Rocky a secret until Dave came to spend the weekend.

"Why is the litter box in the kitchen?" he asked when he came in.

I mutely pointed to the futon, where there was the tiniest little set of white paws sticking out.

I got the glare and a: "You got another cat????"

But Rocky quickly wormed his way into Dave's heart - and despite Dave not living with us until several years later, he claimed Dave as his person.

Handsome, but evil!

 Peno and Tux adapted to his presence pretty quickly.

"Little brothers are the worst!"

Though Peno still looks on him as if he's nothing but a nuisance most of the time.  Which he is.

It took me a couple of weeks to name him. I was actually planning on calling him Alastor - after Alastor Moody of Harry Potter - because he was quite a vocal little thing when he was upset (and had the cutest little grumble).


But then, one evening, Dave and I were curled up on the couch with him, watching the Rocky Horror Picture show. Rocky was purring away and I noted to Dave that he has a very burbling purr... like water bubbling over a rocky stream bed..... rocky stream.... Rocky Horror.... it just clicked - and Rocky was named.

Oh Rocky!

Rocky is a cat with quirks. I'm never allowed to take a bath alone...ever... even after all these years.

"I'm a life guard!"

He's definitely a social cat

"I can't draw, but I'll smack your crayons under the couch for you!"

And loves to be involved with whatever's going on. Unless someone knocks or rings a door bell

"Shhhh... I'm hiding.."

Then you'll find him burrowed into the blankets on the bed.

He's also extremely vocal - and not just when he's upset. 

"Mom. Mom. Mom. Moooooooooommmmmmmm...."

I'm pretty sure he talks just to hear himself talk. And of course, 4 am yodeling is one of his favourite sports (the sparkle balls did not help...), and he especially loves the echo his voice has in the stairwell.

He's put on quite a bit of weight over the years

"I don't comment on your weight...now give me a another cheeseburger."

... but I'm hoping this spring, we can get out more and help him lose some of it.

"I am the master of stealth..."

Though he's never going to be able to catch that rabbit.