Luke is the least loved animal in our house. I'm not ashamed, everyone has to have a favorite, and Luke just isn't it. He was acquired by accident, back when Dave was a young lad of 19 or 20. His roommate brought Luke home, and later moved out without taking him. Years later, someone made a claim for him, but by then it was two late. He and Roo had become a twosome, and there was no turning back.
Luke is very loving. He tries hard to meet new people and experience new things. This summer he ventured outside regularly, if only to run from the back door to the front, then around again. It seemed to bring him great joy, that little adventure. Once or twice he was left out overnight, and I know he just waited on the porch for the first sign of morning. Maybe sneaking beneath the porch to check on things, but never venturing too far away.
Luke is annoying to those who live with him. He is neurotic and compulsive. He drinks water until it makes him sick, and then goes back for more. He really like water and drinking out of the bath is his favorite thing. He's always looking for a lap to sit in, but when you pet him, he tries to bite you. He chews on plastic bags and cracker wrappers, but doesn't steal the food. He's mischievous, and very good at sneaking things away. I know he must have a stockpile somewhere of all the q-tips, pipe cleaners, hair bands, and small pieces of yarn that he's squirreled away. One day, I'm going to run across it, and get all that yarn back. He sneaks into closets when you open them for something, and then doesn't run back out before you close the door. He meows very loudly when this happens, so he's never stuck for long.
Luke is probably around 10 or 11 years old, and I have a fear that he might live to be 20. It scares me more than a little bit to know we could have a 9 or 10 year old child, and Luke could still be around begging for a lap and drinking out of the bath tub. He doesn't take good care of himself, his whiskers are always crooked and goofy, and he neurotically chews the hair off of his belly and ankles. Dave recently pointed out that he kind of has a lazy eye, something I'd never noticed. He gets a sort of wild look about him every now and again, and his eyes just don't line up. I like Luke, as much as I never admit it to him. Every now and again I give him a pat on the back, then run away before we can swipe at me. I'm glad that he's around, he completes our little pet trio (two cats and a dog...). Roo is by far my favorite cat, and Irene is by far my favorite pet, but Luke deserves some credit every now and again. Most days, he's the one to greet me at the door when I come home - the dog is too lazy to move away from the furnace. He's handsome and friendly, some say he could be entered into a show, he's got some sort of fancy cat breed in him. For now, though, we'll just keep him to ourselves, closing him out of the bathroom to take a bath and pushing him off the couch when he's in the good spot. Luke is pretty special, though. Crazy whiskers and all.