One thing that has been pretty amusing to Sean and me over the years is pretending to diagnose our cats with an assortment of mental and emotional disorders. Or, more to the point, all of our cats (like their human companions) have some kind of odd personality quirk that lends itself to one of the DSM disorders. If you're not familiar with the DSM (or, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual), it is basically the "bible" for psychologists, psychiatrists and helping professionals of many stripes. Some consider it an essential tool to the profession; others consider it an overly prescriptive, unnecessarily pathologizing waste of time. I, however, find it infinitely amusing.
Take Wanda, for example: Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder if there ever was one. Ritualized and repetitive behaviors (i.e. kneading on our arms) that are highly compelling to the point of being utterly unavoidable. It's just a good thing that this doesn't translate to other areas of her life or she'd be a very difficult kitty to live with.
Or Otto. Otto has the classic Axis II-level Dependent Personality Disorder. You try to pry him out from under the covers when his Big Buddy has to be away for any length of time. Good luck with that, is all I can say.
Or Mango. She would definitely be diagnosed Autistic if that were even an option for cats. Her social skills with the other cats are limited, she is extremely sensitive to sensory stimulation, particularly touch, and if she has any interest in emotional connection with us, she hasn't shown any evidence of it. I'm just sayin'. On the other hand, she could also be a pretty good candidate for Schizoid Personality Disorder...seriously. Look it up.
Reggie has Histrionic Personality Disorder. I know, I know...that's just a "girl thing." For that matter, that's just a people thing. But Reggie is not at all convinced he's not a people. (As we speak, he is putting his paws delicately in my lap, over and over, trying to get me to pick him up. Now he's poking my chest. Here I am, picking him up.) So now, I am typing around Reggie, who is trying his darndest to get as much attention as possible while I am typing. This is Reggie who screams bloody murder, even when Otto hasn't actually touched him. Reggie who will patiently sit on my chest while I'm asleep and gently curl his claws around my lips and then pull on them to wake me up. Reggie who always greets guests at the door with a winsome: "I've always depended on the kindness of strangers." He's kind of a hoot.
And Mister. Who has Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder. Which, oddly, is not the same as Wanda's Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. (But it could, however, explain why they understand each other so well.) OCPD is marked by a tendency towards perfection, and towards making sure that all things are neat and orderly and routinized and expected. I have never seen a cat with more entrenched patterns, and more of a need for things to be exactly the way he expects them. Pavlov would have been drooling over this cat. Take, for example, the fact that when Mister was on a twice-daily dose of Resthyro, he was running straight for the guest bedroom every single time he saw one of us coming. He had no regard for time or hunger or anything logical--just that we were heading his way and we must be bringing his treat. He's such a Buddy. He's also got a pretty healthy dose of Paranoid Personality Disorder in there. I think it may be a contributing factor to why the other Buddies are always beating up on him. Not to point any fingers or anything. And anyway, is it really paranoia when the other kitties really are out to get him?
And last, but certainly not least, Elroy. Okay, now we do have to double up a bit, because Elroy also seems to be sporting this year's newest fashion--Dependent Personality Disorder. Only his object of attachment is the other cat in the house who also has this disorder. Unfortunately, Elroy isn't Otto's object of attachment. Elroy can barely make a move without trying to be right by Otto's side. It seems like that's been modified a little recently, with the advent of the Front Porch. Elroy's been parking his cute patuckus out on the drink railing (or "cat railing," as we prefer to call it), while Otto has been choosing the relatively hotter climes of the inside of our house. Still, this is Elroy's most defining quality, and we all embrace it. (Okay, maybe not Otto...)
I say all this not to be crass or rude or disrespectful to the Buddies. I say it because it simply seems to be the case. It's not a judgment--it's an observation. I don't love any of them less because of it, and in some cases, I think I might actually even love them more. After all, how can I expect perfection of them when I am nowhere close to it myself? Our buddies are all the more lovable because they all have these wonderful quirks that make them all the more...human. Weird, but true.
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