View from the Top

Apparently, under this table is the most comfortable spot he can find to sleep this morning:

Inconceivable

I had to lock Mister Fred in the bathroom last night once again because he just couldn't keep his paws off my phone charging cradle. I walked in at some point early this morning to check on him, and this was the scene:



I think he has regressed and suddenly does not understand what the purpose of a litter box is. Luckily, it's in the bath tub, so he can't do much damage that can't be quickly washed away. Still, I am concerned for his mental state.

Welcome to a Cat Blog, Designed by a Dog Person

Welcome to "The Daily Freddy," a blog chronicling the sometimes psychotic but always entertaining idiosyncrasies of my mentally disturbed 9-year old cat, Mister Fred. He's never been quite right, but since my beloved golden retriever Griffin died last month,




I've noticed he is even more out of whack than ever. Because I've never been a die-hard cat person (or a cat person in the least), and this is in fact my first-ever cat, I am fascinated by his multiple personality disorder habits that rear their ugly heads about every 10 minutes, interrupting my workday, my sleep patterns and anything else that I decide to do that does not directly involve him.

What does this mean? Well, it means it's time to start exploiting his eternal spin into the depths of feline madness through a daily photo blog. What is the risk of all this? I live out my worst fear and turn into a crazy cat lady, just because this exists. Really, I simply hope to understand this thing that lives with me a little better by stacking up all evidence in hopes it might point to a clear and comprehensive diagnosis.

To begin, here is an introduction to some of his many faces.

The "Jack Palance:"



The "Mother Hen:"



"Stuffed Woolly Mammoth:"



He'll pretty much only lie on things when they are freshly laundered, rendering my attempts to clean them useless, like placemats/linens, and the pillows when the pillow cases are off:





He regularly yawns and meows at the same time, which saves time and also reminds me he is capable of eating my face off if I should die alone:



"The Dead Koala:"



Sometimes I think he's really pissed off, but he's just complacent. At these times, I put things on him, like clothes and headphones ... and take pictures:



"Disgruntled Phone Sex Operator:"



When I first wake up in the morning (after he's kept me up most of the night entertaining himself with my cordless phone cradle), this is usually the view:



He will judge you every time you use the toilet:



Stay tuned for a photo a day, and if you have any good mental health insight (preferably for Mister Fred, NOT me), please feel free to share.