(no subject)
On New Year’s Day, my beloved Amber cat passed away. She would have turned seventeen later this month. Indigo kitten and I are still adjusting to life without our gentle little brown cat.
Amber was sweet, serious, and she had just enough spice to keep her from being too perfect. For years, we had a gentle disagreement over the wicker chairs. She liked to scratch them. I always cautioned her that ‘nice cats don’t.’ She would look over her shoulder at me, scratching away at one of the chairs the whole time, silently asking, “Who says I’m a nice cat?” I found that incredibly endearing.
I loved her instinctive understanding of what was important to me. I took this photo a couple of years ago. I had just taken this cloth from the loom, and she had to be there, napping, as I hemmed it.
May Bastet protect her and guide her on her journey.
Amber was sweet, serious, and she had just enough spice to keep her from being too perfect. For years, we had a gentle disagreement over the wicker chairs. She liked to scratch them. I always cautioned her that ‘nice cats don’t.’ She would look over her shoulder at me, scratching away at one of the chairs the whole time, silently asking, “Who says I’m a nice cat?” I found that incredibly endearing.
I loved her instinctive understanding of what was important to me. I took this photo a couple of years ago. I had just taken this cloth from the loom, and she had to be there, napping, as I hemmed it.
May Bastet protect her and guide her on her journey.