Guinness is a Big Baby

“I don’t bother chasing mice around…Oh NO!
I slink down the alley; looking for a fight…”
Stray Cat Strut—Brian Setzer of the Stray Cats, 1984.

My friend Jim told me that Maine Coon’s were kind of “high strung,” but I had no idea how much so Guinness could be--he truly is a baby and Pam has dubbed him "Baby Guinness." When we were gone, Guinness was truly missing us. Owen, our cat caretaker when Pam and I were in LA, commented to me that “the big guy misses you," as he claimed Guinness was always looking over his shoulder to see if we were home yet.

Guinness likes to paw one’s neck and suffocate people. Seriously. You know that myth about cats sucking the air out of a baby’s lung? Guinness lays on our chest and if we recline, he smothers our mouth and nose with his body as he “hugs.” It really gives some credence—although not much—to the old wives tale.

The “big guy” has attached himself to me, and he is clearly “my cat”—so much so that Pam wants another.

So I have offered a picture of Guinness with his namesake. Before you bother me about the inhumane treatment I am giving my cat—I drank the beer. Yeah, like I would waste a beer? Please be real. The glass does fit him perfectly, does it not?

Guinness has been a Godsend and a blessing in my recovery process. He’s a good boy and a loyal cat. Now, if only he would quit the whining. When I return to work, Guinness will probably whine even more.