Cleo is a strange ragdoll. Where most ragdolls are easy going, cuddly, and calm; Cleo is alert, particular, and intense. She is the grandmother to our big black boy Atticus and as different as the two appear (especially in size) Atticus inherited her best qualities.
Cleo is incredibly playful which is unusual in an adult cat. If you have anything attached to a string and dangle it by her she is down for a solid play session at any time. She also loves hugs. I’m not even kidding, she will yowl every single morning until someone walks over, puts their arms around her and kisses her forehead. At which point intense purring is engaged. If she doesn’t feel the hug was long enough she will resume yowling her protest at this mistreatment.
What makes her a Raccoon?
Cleo is a tiny ragdoll, she’s about the size of an average adult cat at 10 lbs (4.5 kilos) which is small by ragdoll standards. She is dwarfed by our two boys who sit at 15 lbs (6.9 kilos) and 22 lbs (10 kilos) respectively. Her colouring and voice lead people to assume she is always angry.
The dark markings around her eyes make her look like she is always either squinting or glaring and her short muzzle gives her the appearance of frowning. Then there is her voice which you would think could only be achieved by smoking 6 packs of cigarettes a day and drinking cheap whiskey in place of water for your entire life. No matter her mood Cleo always sounds angry, the only way to tell the difference is if her meow ends on an upward note or downward note. Upward note and shes’ happy to see you and will likely accept pets. Downward note and she will bite you because she bites for no reason.
Cleo came to be nicknamed the raccoon because of her ringed tail and strange Demeanour. A family member was visiting and unlike other ragdolls, Cleo isn’t normally interested in scoping out new visitors preferring the lurk behind furniture method. The family member was petting Isaac and commenting about how he has the perfect cat face. I asked, “What about Cleo?”. We turn to look at the end of the couch where Cleo is lurking with her head craned around the couch, glaring at us and they respond “That is not a cat, that is a raccoon.” The monicker just stuck and now everyone calls her a raccoon when she’s being suspicious.