The Grumpy Curmudgeon, Pikachu

Pikachu, or Pika for short, was a semi-long haired, grey and white bottomless pit of a cat with the personality of a old man telling you to “Stay off his lawn”, who came into my life via an abandoned pampers box on the side of road near my church I attended with four of his siblings. While we found homes for everyone else, Pikachu stayed, quickly taking a place in our hearts.

Pika’s namesake came from a pair of small round white spots at the tips of his ears, similar to the pokemon that he was named after.

An incredibly one person cat, he chose one person to put all his affection into and no one else. No one except that person could pet him or even touch him for that matter. Originally it was my sister, until she went off into college and thus he became mine.

My Mom wasn’t even allowed to touch him, even when he chose to lay on top of her. Giving her a look that basically said “You will not pet me, you will not touch me, you are a couch.” Only to glare at her and leave the moment she did otherwise.

Another peculiar trait of his was his issues with people leaving, even for a brief amount of time. Unfortunately these “abandonment issues” as we called it, didn’t stop there. If I happened to leave longer than two hours, he would ignore me for the rest of the day. The longer I was gone, the longer he would ignore me-sulking the entire time.

When he wasn’t sulking he was eating everything in sight and when he wasn’t eating, he was sleeping like he was dead. No amount of poking and prodding would wake him. Sometimes he even slept through being lifted into the air, only to be woken by a few simple scratches to the head--earning me a chirpy purr in response.

He was a cat of many peculiarities, whether it was preferring to sleep on red things--usually hoodies--or demanding ice in his water during the summer. He was certainly a character that was for sure.

When Pika wasn’t being a grumpy curmudgeon, he could be found snuggling up on my lap. With his head buried in either my stomach or my legs; drooling contently in his sleep. If he wasn’t drooling, then he was snoring, quite loudly too. If I wasn’t feeling good, he would snuggle up on my chest instead.

However, even when he was snuggly he never lost his old man attitude--especially when it came to sharing. He hated sharing me with anyone: cats, dogs--it didn’t matter. I was his person and sharing was not allowed. The only cat he seemed to tolerate was Cookie, a chunky orange cat who was just as stubborn as he and refused to share with me for different reasons besides pure stubbornness.

Sometimes I would end up with the two of them on my lap with their paws on each other’s face-both too stubborn to give up their spot; which usually ended with both asleep; paws still pressed against each other's faces.

He was never one for human food, unless I was the one eating it. On more than one occasion, if I had some kind of food sticking out of my mouth-such as a poptart or cheesy bread-he would walk up and try to take a bite out of it. The only other human food he seemed like was tomato sauce, and of course-only from my bowl. And of course chicken, he devoured chicken anytime it was offered to him.

He could also be quite mischievous if he chose to be. Hiding in boxes of papers and refusing to come out when I called. Sleeping in cabinets and pretending not to hear him. Dashing outside, only to scream to come back barely five minutes later-yet running away from me like it was a game. Only to chirp sweetly and snuggle up against me once he was inside, as if trying to get him to forgive me.

He also would throw quite the fuss if a dog drank out of the water before him, as if he was disgusted by the fact that there was dog drool now in his water, complaining until you refilled his bowl with fresh clean water.

He was quite the peculiar cat, but I loved him. I loved all of his strange and unique traits that made up his grumpy character. I love him and I miss him. He was a sweet, grumpy old man until the end, passing away in my arms when it was time to let him go.