PIT STOP

Like all felines, my three cats exhibit a wide, amusing range of neurotic, playful, bossy and flat-out mind-boggling behavior.

Rupert Braeburn, the eldest at 8-years-old, wasn't weaned properly as a little tyke because his mother died (according to his rescuer, at least) in a freak decapitation accident in an abandoned building. To this day, Rupert marches his weighty frame onto Drew or me and kneads our chests in search of milk. Sorry mister, these wells run dry.

Confetta, a black & white featherweight who turns four in a few months, takes the cake in the cute-but-controlling Diva department. She fires off ceaseless rounds of gravelly meows until she gets what she wants, be it food or an open door.

That brings us to Chicklet, the real subject of today's blog entry. We adopted her and her sis, Confetta, in 2002. She's almost entirely black, but technically she's not a full-throttled bearer of bad luck because a few small spots of white fur speckle her coat.

What, I hope you're wondering, is her distinguishing behavioral trait? To put it bluntly, she loves armpits. When Drew and I climb into bed at night or wake up in the morning, it's not unusual for Chicklet to move in for the kill, burrowing her wet nose into our musky treasure troves. Of course we can only stand her little game for about two seconds because the tickling (not to mention the occasional nip) is too intense for words.

Recently Drew and I starting making up jokes and wordplays about Chicklet's favorite pastime. I'll leave you with a few examples that you're welcome to appropriate if your cat ever starts taking pit plunges:

Q: What's Chicklet's favorite flower.

A: A Pit-unia

Q: Who is Chicklet's favorite actor (this one is a no-brainer)?

A: Brad Pitt

Q: What's Chicklet's favorite short story?

A: The Pit and the Pendulum

Q: Who is Chicklet's favorite singer?

A: Pit-ula Clark

Enough already. If you think of additional winners, please send them my way!