Peter

Peter is my cat. A friend of mine gave him to my girlfriend when he was just a kitten but since she lives with a roommate who is allergic to cats, he has lived with me for the last two years. Based on this fact, I consider him mine though my girlfriend would disagree. He’s a very interesting fellow. Although he is eager to make friends with the ladies, Peter avoids most people, specifically my roommate who he is petrified of. Peter’s days are spent lounging in bed, sitting in the closet, attracting stray cats by displaying himself in the windows, staring at the fish tank, and chasing bouncy balls. Peter’s nights are spent frantically running through the blinds when he has caught the attention of one of those stray cats. He’s pretty reliable in that he greets me at the front door when I come home from school and stays up with me when I pull all-nighters studying for class. For whatever reason, it has become some what of a ritual for Peter to want to fight me whenever I am near him when he is on his post. I’ll stand near him and he’ll give me a menacing look, let out a strange meow and try to jump at me. I willingly participate in this activity but make sure to wear protective clothing (as seen above). My girlfriend finds this occurrence highly amusing because he attempts no such action with her even when she tries to provoke him.