Jaspar

No, it's not about me. My cat is also called Jaspar, I'm just borrowing the name. Jaspar is just over a year old; I adopted him a year ago this month. He and his brother were the last two kittens on the farm where they were born. We took Jaspar home, and we felt so bad about leaving that last kitten that we went back the next day and got Arthur.
I couldn't think of a name for Jaspar. We were going to call him Jonas, but then my sister got Arthur, so Jaspar became my cat, instead of the family cat. I tried out several names, from Rum Tum Tugger to Macavity to Carlisle. Nothing seemed to fit, so for the first two weeks I called him Turnip Head. You know, like Charlie called Aaron in Lost? I finally settled on Jaspar, after the vampire from Twilight.
He drives me crazy. He's always getting in trouble, or getting sick. He has allergies; we had to stop using dryer sheets after we got him. He likes trying to scare me, usually by falling off stuff. Like one time, he fell and got his leg stuck in the blinds. Or the time he tried to walk across a curtain rod. It doesn't help things, either, when I'm trying to sleep and he's biting my feet. I yell at him more than I should, I know.
But then there's those moments when he looks at me with those big green eyes, and rubs his head against my hand and purrs, and I all but melt. I love him.