Foofy "the Fluffy" Mafioso
"What you see is what you get"
How you doin'? First of all, let me tell who you're talkin' to. I'm a 9 month-old, 1 feet tall blue-eyed-white male Persian as you can see in the picture, though if you see me face to face my paws are much bigger, my mustache much fuller and I look much younger, taller and muscular. My good looks? Must be the genes, if you know what I mean.
Sometimes my ma gets ideas from nowhere, and I guess that's how I ended up with my name: Foofy. Well, you know, some human species never think before they make a decision, so you gotta forgive their lack of sense...
Beginning my journey, I've spent the first 8 weeks of my life with the wonderful Norman family, and, oh boy, life was good back then.
At the tender age of 2 months I begun to receive lots of offers from human species amazed with my talent and looks. After studying all the proposals I've decided to give Broadway a shot and go to New York. Hey, you never know...
One of the offers that caught my attention was from a female human specie in New York City describing herself as obedient, submissive and easy to train, so I thought she would be a good candidate to be my agent. You know, if you can make in NYC, you can make it anywhere. I bet you heard that chitchat before, but hey, is always good to hear over and over again. Right? Why not. That's how I ended up here.
On my way to the Big Apple, inside that big bird with a funny "airplane" name, I heard many stories from the other pet-passengers about the city. They would tell me crazy things like the angry yellow dogs with motor called "cabs", fast rectangular snakes known as "subway" as well as "escalators", a sort of automatic endless centipede.
Also, tons of loud hippos with MTA letters tattooed on their backs releasing smokes from their tails, long metal whales with strange names such as "Manhattan bridge" and, on top of that, human species riding "bicycles" - some kind of a horse with two wheels. Making things worse, rats that were so well-fed they were bigger than me. Oh well, I thought all of that was baloney. Later on, I found out that not only they were true, but also the existence of strange things like hot dogs, red bulls, crow feet, jumbo shrimps, buffalo wings, monkey business, COCKtails and CATholics. Knowing all of that didn't stop my drive for success. Actually, it made me a tough little cookie.
As soon as I got in NYC, I was intoxicated by the hamburger smell in the air. That was a good sign. Thought to myself, "Hummm, I think I'm going to be all right".
Then, there she was. Dressing like a rainbow in the middle of some kind of a Mardi Gras, my female butler-ma-agent-whatever was right there, waiving at me, smiling with her big light eyes like an alligator at feeding time and holding a big sign with my name on it on top of her messed up spike blonde hair. As soon as she got the chance to get close to me, she fell under my charisma, excuse me, and started to sob in public, just like that.
Coming out from the top of her lungs was her strident voice mixed with tears,
"Foofy, Foofy, Foofy!!!".
Damn! What the heck was that? A broken record? What a pain in the neck! Don't wanna sound catty but, please! Where was her dignity? I bet at that point it went downhill. Oh well, sure enough. Acting like a pet addict, she held me like I was some kind of a plush toy; kiss me like I was an ice cream cone and talked to me like I was a big baby. C'mon! For God sakes! What the hell was she thinking? Making all that scene in front of everybody, embarrassing the crap out of me? I was like, "Relax, lady, or you are going to have an heart attack". But yet, you know, I felt sorry for her, so I ended up petting her back and licking her tears to calm her down. After all, even with my tough attitude I still like to keep my soft side.
Anyway, a couple of days later and I guess scared to death to be busted by the AHS for animal neglect, ma/agent decided to take me to get the shots I needed.
It was the best thing she did, because I got the chance to meet the great human species at the St Marks Vet. Though the shots hurt like hell, I felt very comfy being there. It's always packed, I get the chance to catch up with my pet-buddies, hang out with my human fellas and on top of that see my lovely Dr. Charisse Luk. She is such a piece of cake; I just cannot get enough of her. I have a crush on her, but hey, mind your business, don't tell her that, cause I need to keep her wondering. Capisce?
Going to St Marks Vet gives me the chance to keep my health in top shape, so I can keep up with my busy schedule: eating, sleeping, purring. Kicking ma's pillows, stretching my robust body, hiding from ma when she wants to brush my tooth, give a bath or clip my toenails.
Also, get done with my other top priorities like taking care of my business in the litter box, teaching ma new tricks and making sure I pet the top of her head and tell her "good girl" when she exceeds my expectations, which is rare, I admit, and spending some quality time with my pals Vinnie the Paw, Teddy the Bear, Nick Catnip and Joe Barker. They are all good friends of mine and we like to play rough and muscle-hustle each other every chance we get. Plus, the good health gives me patience to deal with ma and my lil sister Barbie when they bust my balls. For some reason, some female species seem to never get our macho-mentality regarding space. Why is that???
Anyway, to cut my story short I just want to let everybody know how happy I am for being invited to be the Pet of the Month. Not in my wildest dreams I would have dreamt about such an honor like that. Proudly, I can say, "I made it. I made in NYC. Everything paid off!"
I'm very thankful for all the pet playmates I've met. Also, all the fans and wonderful human species, normal and crazy ones, I got to meet.
After all, you know, I know, everybody knows: a purr-cat life is not easy.
Stress in my life? Fuggedaboudit.
