The Life of Pye is about a cat.

Well, the movie titled The Life of Pi isn’t entirely about a cat. Ok, the movie isn’t really about a cat at all, it just has a cat in it. Whatever, we can’t be picky.

But this post is about a cat. It’s about the life, so far, of Pyewacket (aka “Pye”), the kitten who arrived on my doorstep adopted me in September of last year. This was originally going to be one Ten Things post, but she’s done so much goofy stuff I decided to make it a series. Lucky you.

Plus, her one year birthday has just passed. She showed up September 23, 2012 and she was probably around 5 or 6 months old at the time. I’ve decided to make her birthday March 23rd. It’s a rough guess, but she deserves an actual birthday.

A rare moment of calm in February. She’s curled up, upside down, along my side and arm. We’re napping in a black “faux mink” throw blanket.

Here’s some of what’s happened in the last six months… (more posts to follow)

Pye has a foot fetish. No, really – and I’m beginning to get concerned. She loves my stinky shoes. She attacks my feet and ankles almost constantly. Sometimes she licks them, or just puts her own paws on my feet. She likes to do this most by laying behind my feet and placing all her paws on the edge of my foot when I’m trying to cook.

She loves the feet, socks, and shoes of guests, too. Much to my embarrassment I have to explain to my guests Pye has a foot and shoe fetish and their feet are not immune to the kitty’s affections. The conversation goes something like this: Uh yeah, she will probably lick your feet. Sorry. Wait! Don’t go! I swear it only tickles a little!

Pye will eat me when I die. I’m sure you’ve all heard those stories of people who die alone in their house, and the pet starts gnawing on their arm or face. The poor dead person is invariably found some days later with chunks missing. This is what will happen to me if I die alone with Pye.

Why? I was recently sick with the flu and stayed in bed for a few days. Pye did not like this and attacked my arm with teeth and nails — repeatedly. What did Checkers used to do when I was sick? She would cuddle with me, as if she wanted to comfort me, instinctively knowing I was sick. Such a sweet cat she was. Pye, on the other hand, is part vulture. She will probably not wait for my death to eat me, and will probably start with my feet next time I’m ill.

Next up: Thirty Hours Without Pye, and Pye and The Minnow.