Friday, May 12, 2006

A Study in Foof

My friend, Caro, makes a good point. I do tend to underestimate the staggering drawing power of Rocket and her Foof.

Typically her Foof goes unappreciated because it's carefully guarded by pointy teeth and grunting noises reminiscent of wild boar. However, at those rare moments when she leaves the Foof unguarded, I go after it like, well, Rocket after a new bag of Science Diet.

It's a blissful, Foof-filled few moments before she realizes I'm devastating her expertly cleaned Foofiness, at which point she turns on me like a mother bear defending her brood and the teeth start a flyin'. She then gives me a look as if to say,

"Mommy, why do you touch me? I tell you not to touch me. Now I'm FILTHY and have to re-clean all of this acreage. I hate you."

It's a fun time.

However, at the end of the day, she is my buddy. Ok, so 90% of the time she's only hanging out with me (read: nipping at my heels and corraling me toward the kitchen) on the off chance that I'll cave and give her a "snack", but then there are those moments when I'm lying on the couch or in bed and she jumps up and lies her Foof across my chest or tucks her big bear of a head into the crook of my arm as if to say,

"See Mommy, sometimes I don't hate you. See how I'm not biting? That is love."

Or when she tippy toes her way up to the back of the couch to groom Hubby. Which he loves OH so much.

And then there are times when Hubby and I both are sitting on the couch and she comes to sit with us so that we all can share 1 sq. ft of space as though the rest of the house was made of hot lava. We call these moments, "Happy Family".

As Alessandro so expertly put it, she can, from time to time, be "Fancy Feast".

The best part of Rocket, though, can't be seen or appreciated in these photos. It's her voice. Hubby speaks for Rocket and has developed something of a distinctive Voice for Rocket that produces the most fall down, grab your sides, laugh till you cry commentary one could hope to get from a pet.

My personal favorite of Rocket's greatest hits, as sung by Hubby:

"Mommy, daddy kicked me."

Never fails to slay me.


  1. Those Rocket paws! wow.
    The Husband had a very foofy kitty when I first moved to Austin. He had a huge elizabethean fur collar and fuzzy pantaloons. He'd suck you in with all his cuteness and then SHAZAM! He'd venus-fly trap your arm til there was blood. He was quite the bully, but damn he was pretty.

  2. For the record:

    I've NEVER kicked Rocket.

    Nudged with a toe, sure. Kick? Never.

  3. Can we get a picture of the Foof? From the way Rocket look, it can only be spectacular. :) I used to do the same to my roomies cats but they were no where near as fluffy as Rocket.

  4. An old roommate of mine calls her, ahem, coochie (or whatever you want to say) her 'foof'. Now her kids say that too, like it's the most common word in the world. One can only imagine the conversations at school...
    Just sayin'.


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