Meet Daddy-O!

Name: Daddy-O

Breed: Daddy-O refuses to discuss his heritage

Likes: Daddy-O is fickle. For example – for weeks he won’t eat anything but Bumble Bee solid white albacore tuna and immediately after I buy 12 cans on sale, he won’t look at it. Lately he craved Boston Market turkey (no gravy). I stopped buying it after I had to eat turkey sandwiches everyday for a week! One thing he is not fickle about is requiring pristine litter boxes. He has 3 large dishpans that are located side-by-side in the bathroom. He will not re-visit a littler box if he’s already been there. (I wonder if he owns stock in a kitty litter company??)

I got the hep-cat attitude, that’s why they call me Daddy-O

Dislikes: Daddy-O is mild mannered and easy going but if given a choice, he would prefer that I not vacuum or play the stereo. Recently, he has had to take various liquid medications. Based on the amount of meds he has spit out all over the carpeting, I’d say he doesn’t like taking antibiotics, pepcid or appetite stimulants either. He doesn’t seem to mind the lactulose, thank goodness, because pooping is something to celebrate in his world. Daddy-O does not play with toys, feathers, yarn, catnip, etc. but will sit close by to watch humans play with his toys, as Iris, his pet sitter, knows very well.

About Daddy-O: Daddy-O is a man of few words but somehow I understand him. He reacts when I say: window, bed, brush, and turkey (he calls all food turkey) and I react when he says anything. Like most cats, Daddy-O has had many lives. I came into his current life seven years ago when my daughter and son-in-law were volunteering at Pet Smart’s adoption center in southern NJ. At that time I was living in a northern suburb of NYC. Every week for three months my daughter would call me and always mention the sweet cat that no one would adopt because he was estimated to be 9 yrs old. So one day in February, I drove 3 hours to pick up a cat that needed a home and drove back another 3 hours with a cat that would not stop crying unless I sang louder than he cried. Daddy-O was a much better traveler (or he just hated my singing) by the time we drove from NY to live in Maryland.

Daddy-O was living with me for three days before he revealed his true identity. His alias in the shelter was Geoffrey. On the third day, it came to me that his facial colorings look like a goatee similar to what the beatniks in Greenwich Village used to wear in the 50s. The beatniks were cool cats who called each other daddy-o. Daddy-O’s name describes his appearance and his cool cat attitude. He was glad to finally shed the Geoffrey pseudonym.

Most days he spends taking naps between his rest periods but he rarely misses my 5:00AM wake up call by gently tapping my eyelids with his sweet paws. Everybody loves Daddy-O, especially me.