Furball Frustrations! Why the CAT runs the show! Don't travel with a cat!

I know I need to watch my temper. I know I can't spread positive messages, and then go yell at my cat!
There's just something you all don't understand!
My cat is an asshole!

Don't let that cute little pink nose fool you! This animal is plotting something!

I had to adopt this guy, after my dad passed away. He lived in a big, beautiful yard, had the freedom to go anywhere he wanted, he was the dominant male in his kingdom. The downside to that was that my dad didn't really give a shit about him. He made sure he was fed and had water, but it was wet DOG FOOD he fed him with, because it was cheaper. Similarly, as a child growing up, my dad felt the same way about me, he was just never really interested, but, that's another story!

Anyway, when my dad got sick and I went to his home to help with things, I immediately noticed the cat had huge knots of matted fur hanging off of him! He looked like a damn feral cat that nobody cared about! He was thin, always hungry, always starving for food as well as touch. As soon as I was given the option to buy the groceries, the first thing I had to change was the cats diet!

After my dad passed away, I knew the cat was now MY CAT. I did the math, and estimated he was around 15 or 16 at that time, and it has been 2 years since then, so, he's not a young animal.

The first thing I did was to take him to a groomer, who had no trouble getting the mats out of his fur. I've heard those can get quite painful. The next thing I had to do was take him to a vet. Now, neither of those trips in a carrier, in a vehicle, were necessarily fun for either of us! This cat is NOT a good car rider!

Here's the thing: I had already planned to buy a travel trailer, and live in another state, in the trailer. So, anything I did, and anywhere I went, I was going to have to drag this cat with me! It wouldn't be so bad if he was more accepting of the whole travel idea! Plus, he was used to living in the high desert of southern California; now he would be cooped up in a trailer, in a foreign land, with me!

We have tried to bond. Considering the fact that I came from a family of people that didn't even bond well with each other, this has been challenging for the both of us. He has the best food now, he's super healthy for a cat of his age. He does have a condition in his mouth that requires me to crush a pill into his food every other day, but other than that, he's healthy.

There's just one thing that really bugs me about him! If his food isn't presented in a certain way, with the right gravies, or smells, or whatever... He will just sit there and stare at me! Like, he is using his psychic powers to tell me his food isn't acceptable or something!

See! This is what happens when you try to do the right thing! The expectations are raised, and you can't go back! He's never had it this good, especially food wise! But now the bar is being raised higher every day!

I will try to ignore THE LOOK and will try not to react. It eventually turns into a contest of wills; who can hold out the longest... it's usually him!

I usually end up caving in, and have to go doctor up his stupid bowl of food! The thing is, it's not always the right choice, I mean, I can't read his mind, so I can't tell what exactly he wants. A dollop of milk? A spoonful of gravy, or tuna juice, or what? What worked yesterday, may not work today! What he loved yesterday, he turns his nose up to today! Why isn't he just grateful he is getting fed?!

Anyway, I am really trying to learn patience with this cat. It's not as bad in the summer, when he enjoys going outside and sunbathing. But, in the winter, in Oregon, it's too cold or too wet for him to go outside. So, we are both cooped up in my trailer, driving each other crazy with our daily stare-downs!

I used to think cats were better than dogs, because they were seemingly low-maintenance. As I have spent time with this one, I think I am changing my angle on that perception.

When I say NO, he thinks I am calling him for a treat! He has no concept of disciplinary tones of voice, or even when I shoo him with my foot. He thinks it is all about him, his food, and his luxury and comfort.