Living with Gizmo

First things first. I don’t own a cat. But he is my cat.

Technically, I suppose no one owns him being that Emily picked him up for no charge, and now he justs hangs around for the free food. Let the record show, though, that I picked him out. Coming soon: championship cat picking, by Than, at your local county fair.

Meet Gizmo.

For the past week, Gizmo has been living with me in Fargo — his first big adventure away from home and his two other cat companions, Mila and Zuki. I was worried that Gizmo would have trouble adjusting to the new environment, but he soon found a handful of new activities to occupy his waking hours, of which, apparently, there are approximately three on any given day.

Gizmo discovered fishing pretty quickly. Watching him fruitlessly paw the glass was amusing for a little while, until he made it even more interesting two days into his stay when I nearly caught him on top of the fish tank. Nearly, because he heard me coming and jumped down before he could get into trouble.

Ol’ Grizzly Bear is kind of curious in that regard. A few days later, after I let him sit on top of the tank with the cover open to feed the fish, I stepped out of the room, only to here a slight thud of something falling. “Gizmo?” I inquired. “Merrreooww?” He jumped down, meowed some more and brushed up on my leg. This, I took it, was cat for, “I’m sorry, I just knocked the fish food down. I didn’t mean to, honest.”

Gizmo, however, is not as apologetic when it comes to digging in the houseplants.

All in all, Gizmo is a phat sweet cat. He’s a decent conversationalist when he feels like it, has tons of great skills — such as bringing home live snakes and cuddling with them — and will stay out of your way all day hiding in the furthest reaches of the dark, cool utility closet.

Gizmo, I hope you’ve enjoyed your vacation, because tomorrow we’re heading back home to cat mayhem.