Mew

Mew is an adorable little creature. He has metallic green eyes like a jewel beetle, but even cuter with his dough eyes. They are quick to switch when he loses his temper which is most days. He's quite evil, but cuddly. Mew the oxymoron. He's a tuxedo cat with an affinity for being a foodie.

When I first discovered him, I was in my apartment and heard a tiny meowing. I asked my roommate, "Is there a cat in here"? She said, yes. I relaxed on the couch and was greeted by him as he flopped and melted into my arms around my neck. I fell in love with him. I knew he had to be mine. I asked to keep him. He was a rescue. Someone abandoned him. When my roommate found him, she heard him crying at our apartment complex, probably dehydrated and hopefully not famished.

He lived with me in my tiny little room in my four bedroom apartment on campus. He liked to attack me for no reason. He was probably around 6 months old when I found him. I would stand next to him while he ate so I could make sure he ate it all and so he would feel safe.

I even trained him to give me a kiss, just a little peck on the lips. I spent many years kissing his head and calling to him even if he would not always come. He came to expect these head kisses and would push his head up in the air so I could kiss it while he was standing on my lap. He hated it especially when I would have my morning coffee. He would get on the kitchen bar eye level where I had my morning breakfast and coffee and scream at me for no reason. I would record videos of his temper tantrums and I would be laughing hysterically. He is very territorial. He believes he's alpha of the territory. He circles around, running at full speed. I am not allowed at times to be on my own couch. I have to walk away backwards from him when he's in a frisky mood, trying to avoid his agility and side swipes. Despite his temper and pride, he still enjoys flopping on my pillow and letting me squeeze him like a stuffed animal and or letting him be my pillow. Sometimes I thought I could hear him calling to me in my mind when I wasn't home, asking, "Where are you?" in a cute, little baby boy's voice. When I sleep, there have been times when he uses just one claw and pokes my big toe. It is quite cruel and I don't know why he does this.

Since I moved and I was away for a bit, he now lives with my grandmother enjoying the scenic view of her backyard enjoying the various wildlife that comes in view of the glass sliding door on the back porch. There are squirrels, birds, skunks, opossums, and foxes. He has grown much calmer and barely attacks. My poor grandfather paid the price of Mew's anger whilst scratched and bleeding horribly on a number of occasions. We all have scars from Mew. My grandmother has to stand by him while he eats just like when he was a baby. Everyone thinks it's cute.

Mew is a star. Even my mother has thoroughly enjoyed taking beautifully captured, vivid photos of him. I have a few of him with his tongue sticking out or perhaps of him lounging in his litter box.