Aka Otto. Or Biggie.

Otto spent 3 months in Guelph with our friend, Steve. By all accounts Steve is not a cat person, but he offered to take Otto while we were down south. In fact, since he’s kind of an anal German heritage guy, Steve was a bit of an unlikely cat sitter. Cats, after all, are not the manly man pet of choice. Plus they shed and use a litter box. Not very macho.

But Otto is a cool cat as his nickname suggests. He’s also huge. So huge that his legs look shorter than they really are which you can see when he’s stretched out full length on the sofa. Otto is really good at three things: eating, sleeping and using the litter box. He’s also good at: purring, snuggling (at his convenience) and finding unusual and random places to nap.

Otto is very handsome. He has soft grey and white fur and completely pink nose and paw pads. The white parts of the fur are really soft and white. But he sheds. Like crazy. And when he’s brushed there’s dandruff. No wonder so many people are allergic.

The purring is constant (he’s a very contented creature) and sounds like a soft motor. Like a quiet snore. It’s a happy sound.

Otto is predictable. If you want him to come you just have to call his name. And if he doesn’t come trotting over right away, all you have to do is rattle his treat box (they aren’t called Temptations for nothing) and Poof! he appears with a smile on his face and, often, purring.

Molly and Otto are friends. And they were happy to see each other again. They had their hello sniff and lick. Sometimes I wonder if they have food smells that the other is trying to sample. Whatever. They get up close and personal and it’s fun to watch. Otto usually breaks the bond first if I’m watching. He knows it’s time for a boost up to his good station. We feed Otto on the counter in the laundry room so Molly can’t reach it and Otto can eat in peace and safety.

Otto’s litter box is in our garage; our friend John installed a doggy door. Rudy was concerned that Otto may have forgotten how to use the door so he propped the door open with a hockey skate. Definitely not a good interior design look. But a day or so later Rudy decided it was time to remind Otto how it was done. So Rudy popped Otto through the door into the garage and waited. Moments later Otto stuck his big head in through the door and I could hear Rudy cheering him on. After a couple more practice drills Coach Florio was assured that Otto had mastered the doggy door technique. Rudy, after all, is the litter box manager; he unloads and reloads the box regularly often commenting on how much “my” cat poops. Seriously. My cat. I’m grateful that Rudy does the litter deed without complaint; I can’t stand the smell of the dust.

Everyone is settling back into the routine. All bodies are accounted for and know their place.

Home sweet home! Missed you Biggie!