psycho-chat

This is Roger a week after we brought Suzanne home from the hospital. He's had a rough life and the last thing he needed was a baby to take his place.

We did not make Roger nuts. He came that way. Such is the downside of super-feline intelligence. Believe it or not, Roger is a feline Einstein.

See, we saved Roger from oblivion when my mother-in-law died. He was living in a house with a garden with another cat named Simon. When we sold her house, Jerome wanted to keep Roger. Simon, who was scheduled to be put down, now lives at my ex boss' in a large house with a garden. Poor Roger got the short end of the stick, but he's alive. Moving in with Leon (who he hated), into an apartment, being alone all day, and then a baby coming just made his state worse.

Roger opens the front door at night. Roger sleeps on top of us. Roger will only sit on on pieces of paper or books. Roger wakes up the baby at night. Roger will only drink from the bamboo plant. Roger watches people in the mirror. Roger self-mutilates (see above picture). Roger started kitty anti-depressants this morning.