This is Gerald, he lives with me and my flatmate. He’s about two years old or so and belongs to the people who own the place we stay in.
Gerald’s real name isn’t Gerald. According to my flatmate his name is incredibly complicated and sounds like a word that falls somewhere between chardonnay and Scheherazade. She calls him Cat. Being a strong believer in not calling individuals by the name of their species, I’ve convinced her to at least call him Buddy. I call him Gerald. It’s a West Wing reference and I’ll be thrilled if you get it.
Gerald’s favourite activities include getting people to open doors for him, taking his food out of the bowl and putting it on the floor before eating it, and sleeping on your pillow. He hates drinking from a reflective metallic water bowl and has thus been given one of our planetary bowls (the yellow one) for his water needs. Gerald has on occasion picked fights with dogs and cats and he seems to be losing far more often than he wins. On the occasions when Gerald has had his feathers ruffled he has preferred to sleep in my bed, resulting in my mattress having at least one spot of cat blood on it. Whenever Gerald manages to be King of the Hill on my recently cleaned desk, he looks absolutely triumphant.
Furthermore, Gerald thinks that birds are a great mystery. The fact that he’s meant to be a stealth predator continues to elude him. So he just screams at them whenever he sees them. If he does bring things home, it is either road kill or rats that were killed by poison. To Gerald’s great annoyance, we don’t let him eat poisoned rodents. Gerald sometimes forgets that if he climbs from our deck to the balcony that belongs to the people who live above us, he’s too much of a coward to climb down. His solution to this situation is to simply sit and wait until someone opens the door for him so that he can get down the stairs instead. It is Gerald’s firm belief that laptops and laps are there for him to massage with his paws endlessly, this has caused “me” to like a fair few Facebook statuses I had no intention of liking. Thanks, Gerald. Gerald tends to forget that he’s a massive cat and insist on crawling out through the smallest window he can find, even if he has to bring his hips through sideways.
There are a few things Gerald hates. The time when he got his temperature taken was probably one of the worst days of Gerald’s life. He also hates it when someone has the nerve to go to the bathroom without inviting him. Flea powder is most likely a human conspiracy to kill all the fun in the world if you ask Gerald.
In regards to Gerald’s future plans, he intends to teach the neighbour’s kids to socialise without reaching for his tail. He also seems to intend to psychologically manipulate us into only buying him wet food and once went on a four day hunger strike hoping we’d give in. He calmly plots the assassination of The Fluffy Cat who lives in the area, tries to steal Gerald’s turf, and has the gall to sound exactly like Gerald when he meows.
So yeah, this is Gerald and I absolutely adore him.