Banjo Cat???

Guinness.  It is one of the most successful beer brands throughout the world, is dark brown, almost black in color, and has a distinct almost burnt flavor.  I have always loved watching my dad pour it into his glass because it has a cascading effect below the head when you pour it.  This beer holds many memories for me, which is a large part of the reason why I named my cat Guinness.  Although Guinness is grey and white, he has a rather robust and dark personality, loves water (???), dog food, thinks he is a dog, and has a very strange sense of humor. 

I was running late yesterday (shocker), and ran into the house because I forgot my phone (yet again, no surprise there).  I must note that fifteen minutes before I had spent about ten minutes on my stomach under my truck trying to get Guinness out from under it.  He had escaped outside, and since he never gets out of the my way I am always in his way (I usually end up on my face), I'm fairly certain he won't get out of the way of a vehicle moving 60 mph, because, let's face it, the world belongs to him.  After I grabbed him by the tail (it's all I could get a hold of), a few scratches, dirt all over my clothes, and one pissed off cat later, I tossed him inside and finished morning chores (feeding chickens, Remi, and attempting to corral Sam while he leaped and bounded at me, putting dusty paw marks all over my already messy self)  I went inside, somewhat disheveled, in a rush to get my cell phone.  As I walked by the bathroom I noticed Guinness squatting on a heap of clothes on the floor.  I immediately put on the brakes, backed up, and said, "What are you doing?!"  As I walked over to him I realized he was doing exactly what I had hoped he wasn't doing.  He was peeing on my shorts.  @#!%  He has a litter box and has had no problem using it, however since I moved into this house, I have moved his litter box into the basement, and he is now locked in the basement at night because he has a tendency to think it is funny to yank on my hair in the middle of the night or leap onto my stomach, causing me to wake up, flail, thus inadvertently launching him like a missile.  Usually into Sam, the dog, and then they start playing, knocking things over, antagonizing each other, leaving me waking up in the mornings with swollen, puffy eyes.  I'm not sure if he was making a statement about our earlier morning fiasco, or about being in the basement, but my dad did tell me this past weekend (as Guinness was purring in his arms) that he thought he had a perfect hide for a banjo.  Hmmmm...Christmas really isn't that far away...