the mario blog

Today we introduced Jen’s dog Gilbert to Otto. The roles and hierarchy of these two fine pets seem to be somewhat turned around. Otto is one tough cat. And Gilbert…ahem…a little scared.

Otto having it his way. Really, who needs friends when you got a sweater with strings?

 
 

On my way to the bathroom this morning, with my eyes half closed, I was surprised by a cat sitting on my window ledge. For a second I thought that somehow Otto got out and was trying to get back in.  That, however, wasn’t the case, as Otto was making love to his favorite carpet. Don’t ask.

Anyways, this is my neighbor’s cat. What she’s doing outside, I don’t know. If she’s still there when I go home at lunch, I will let Otto loose on her.

I am not sure what happened at my loft while I was camping, but it tired out Mr.Otto von Bismarck. My apartment was a mess when I came back, the neighbor’s cat has been staring in my window all day long and Otto spent the better part of the day passed out on his blanket. It was a sunny in Portland today, which Otto obviously did not appreciate.

I washed my bed sheets this weekend, which resulted in Otto turning my drying rack into an extraordinary tent. Once my bed was made, Otto proved that the  living room pillow really is more of a cat pillow.

Today was Otto’s first visit to the vet, which I thought could be a traumatizing experience for the little guy. Well, it turned out to be much more traumatizing for me than him. Once I let Otto out of his box at the vet, he was cool as can be. No fear, no panic, no biting, nothing. As a matter of fact, I found it troubling to see how at ease Otto was when the vet stick a thermometer up his behind. At least it was a female vet. Otto is quite possibly the kindest being I’ve ever met, which makes it painfully clear that he definitely is not blood related to myself or my mother.

My mum believes that Otto is about half of the weight that he should be. She has been worrying herself silly about his lack of appetite. Well turns out and according to our vet,  Otto is the perfect weight for his size and he’s eating just fine. Our cat, Sophia, in Germany on the other hand is not. She’s half the size of Otto and twice his weight. My dad has been told to stop feeding her sausages, chocolates and whipped cream.

Otto von Bismarck came to reign the Portland Park Blocks on the night of New Year’s eve. Otto is four years old and hails originally from Eugene, Oregon. Otto spent the last year in various shelters and foster homes and is determined to fight that upper respiratory infection he got from the cat ladies at the shelter. Otto never leaves your side and prefers to sleep on people’s chests, which is somewhat awkward since he’s constantly sneezing.  Otto’s favorite place to sleep is my sock drawer and he’s a big fan of communal peeing. So don’t be surprised if Otto follows you into the bathroom.   

Otto on his tree