I am Scooter’s butt-patter.
He is the kind of cat who demands that I show affection toward him by patting his butt. Spanking it, really. Some cats like this, I guess. I’m not into it, but I seem to be the one in our little family he prefers to get a spanking from. He cuddles up to B and lets her pet him the way most people pet cats: stroking his head and his back, scratching his shoulders, that kind of thing. But from me, he wants a spanking.
He starts out by rubbing against some part of me, usually my leg, to get my attention. Not at all unusual for a cat, right? Most cats do something like this. Then he’ll duck his head under my hand or my arm to get me to pet him; again, entirely within the behavioral profile of most cats. When I start to pet him, though, he’ll almost immediately wheel around, stick his butt high in the air, and back into my hand.
It’s not that I’m unwilling because it seems like a weird kink, even though it does. Full disclosure: It feels weird to spank a cat as a way of saying, “I like you.” But honestly, that’s not the problem I have with him. It’s more than I don’t want to have to look at his butt. Way more. In my opinion, it’s not his most endearing feature. No cat’s butt is. Again, just my opinion. Other people may think their cats have lovely butts, and that’s okay. Others like every part of their cat. I am not into cat butts. And I don’t want to see them or touch them all that much, and I really don’t want to spank even just one cat butt every day.
I’ll pet him when he comes around, and even pat his butt a few times, or more than a few times if he points that thing away from me, but if he insists on shoving his butt straight at my face, I have to get up and walk away, and that’s when he starts to act out, knocking stuff on the floor, like my glasses or my phone, or jumping up where he knows he’s not supposed to go, like the dining room table or into the kitchen sink. This has strained on our relationship to the point where I’m ready to sell him to a cosmetics lab for experimentation. My Darling B scoffs when I suggest this, because she thinks I’m just kidding around, and I am, mostly, but there’s a teeny-tiny part of me, the part that stores the memories of looking at Scooter’s butt, I think, that would really like to trade him in for a cat that’s a little less anally fixated.
This Is Drivel 