Me and Mr. Bix

Kevin's cat is a black and white shorthair who is grossly overweight. Kevin named him Bix after some musician who was juuuuust obscure enough to befuddle the mainstream but juuuuust well-known enough to impress music snobs such as himself. Good going Kev. Me? I probably would have named him Ricky Martin. But I digress.

When my two cats and I moved in a little over a year and a half ago, Bix was more than a little angry. He started peeing in the kitchen sink on a regular basis. He also crapped in front of us one time. Like, he literally sauntered into the living room and crapped in front of us while we were watching television. He kinda looked over his left shoulder while he was doing it too. I screamed in horror but deep down inside my respect for Bix grew a little that evening.

The poo incident was ages ago. Bix has settled in to having me and my two cats here as permanent residents. The anger he once directed at me for taking away the affections of his master has transformed into a twisted, sick affection for me in particular.

Bix humps my arm. Seriously. Whenever I lie down on the couch he races over, leaps up, bats my arm around like a dead mouse until he gets it in the exact right position, then swings one of his fat hind cat legs over it and has at it. Humpity hump hump.

At first Kevin tried to stop the behavior, but whenever he would try to pull Bix off my arm mid hump, he would respond with a weird, primal meow (Bix would, not Kevin).

Okay...but here is the really disturbing part. I don't mind it. In fact, I have even started to look forward to it. Because as Bix humps he also kneads my belly with his paws. You know how cats do that? And...I don't know, but it's just kind of relaxing. It just puts me in this weird Zen place. Just a little kneading in my belly and I'm out for the night.

Should I be reported to PETA?

Sung to the tune of "Me and Mrs. Jones": Me and Mr. Bix...we've got a thaaaaaaang....goin' on....Me and...Me and...Me and Miiiiiiiiiiiister Biiiiiiiix....yeah yeah yeah.