St. MoMo

This is Schmo. He's our fat, bossy, complain-y, 10 year old cat, who is currently undergoing the process to officially be named a saint.

In that picture, Colin is actually driving a train on MoMo's back. Poor cat. He puts up with so much.

First it was two screaming crying lumps that invaded his house about two years ago. He adjusted pretty quickly to their arrival though, once he figured out that baby night-time feedings equaled Schmo night-time feedings. Then those lumps started to CHASE him. The nerve. He adjusted well to that after a while. C&G starting to walk was just another bump in the road for Schmo.

But now? Well, now Colin and Gillian think Schmo is their friend. Their BEST friend (besides each other). When we pull into the garage from our morning outings, they both shout, "MoMo! We home!" And once they get upstairs they run like the crazy people they are to find the poor cat, get in his face, and shout at him that they are HOME. I think he figured that out on his own.

MoMo also helps with bath sometimes. Like most toddlers, Colin and Gillian can get kind of rowdy and let out quite a few squeals in the tub. This causes Schmo to think they are in danger. He comes running and puts his feet up on the edge of the tub and squawks at them until they quiet down and Daddy reassures MoMo that "his kids" are ok.

Gillian has taken the special responsibility of brushing the saintly feline. Unfortunately she likes to brush UP his fur and pretty much just teases Schmo, who really likes to be brushed!!!

All in all, MoMo has it pretty good. He's still pretty spoiled in this house, but he would tell you he puts up with a lot of stuff. Especially from "his kids."