Every single time I come home from traveling one of my cats has completely forgotten I ever existed, and the other is positive I am an undead replicant or possible a million alien bugs wearing a Joel suit. The apathetic one, Replay, briefly looks up from licking his own asshole, then gets right back to chowing down. The paranoid idiot one, Tivo, tears across the house as soon as he sees me, then takes refuge either under my bed or between my night stand and the wall. Two places that I, as a human with arms and legs, obviously have no way of ever infiltrating.
Tivo is your basic fuzzy dumbass. Just fuzzy as all get out, and as dumb as the day long. These are things that do not terrify Tivo: me sitting in a chair. Me walking through the room. These are things that ABSOLUTELY terrify Tivo: Me getting up from sitting in a chair, me walking through the room wearing sandals, me walking through the room holding something in my hands, me walking in the direction that he is also walking in, me doing a thing, a thing happening, me standing up and then a thing happens… you get the idea. His primary fears are me, things, happenings, and most other all of it.
Replay, the other one, couldn’t give two shits connected by a piece of string that he ate (A real thing that has happened in my house several times. We call them “poop-chucks.”) if I lived or died. The only thing that leads me to think he might prefer my death is that I get the distinct impression he wants to hollow out my chest cavity and take up residence in my rib cage. It’s hard to explain why I think this. Some cats, just give off that vibe, you know?
Calling all Whovians with holes in their ears! Just look at these Sonic Screwdriver earrings my wife made!