This is Loki. Aptly named after the Norse god of mischief, Loki is a one year old Ragdoll Siamese mix that I adopted from a rescue shelter in Ennis, TX last March. Despite his obvious feline species markers, Loki actually thinks he's a St. Bernard. He drools profusely, chews up papers, and chases the cat. The other cat, that is. I have a 7 year old female, Cecily, who is a total sweetheart. My intention was to find another cat to be a companion for her, but Loki has turned her whole world upside down, poor thing. Come to think of it, he's turned my world upside down too. He climbs up my clothes to get to the tall shelf in the closet, which is cute but I haven't exactly enjoyed finding holes in the shoulders of my shirts.
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Anyway, possibly the most infuriating thing about my little god of mischief is that as terrible as he is, he is equally as cute. He cuddles and purrs and loves on me, so it's impossible to stay mad at him. It would be nice if someday he would stop ripping papers out of the file cabinet through the hole where the handle used to be and shredding them all over the floor of the office. I could also live without him stubbornly insisting that things I have put on my dining table or kitchen counter ought to be thrown to the floor and played with until they are either destroyed or lost forever under the refrigerator. Still, I love my little boy. He makes me crazy and he requires frequent punishment, and he will probably have Cecily and me both losing our hair out of frustration... but somehow my crazy life wouldn't be the same without him.
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