Feline invasion
So, I am still in mourning for my kittie, BIllie, so I am perhaps more vulnerable to feline influence. My friend Lisa called me up yesterday. She teaches sex education and sexual identity to inner city girls in Los Angeles and is one of my personal heros. While at the school yesterday, this stray cat wandered in and began working the room for scraps. Friendly, sweet, easygoing, entirely unafraid of a room full of teenage girls, Lisa was immediatly enchanted.
Of course, she called me.
Of course, I melted into a puddle and said "Sure, bring her one over, just call Angie first and make sure its okay, 'cause I still want my lungs."
Her name is Olivia and she is a leopard-spotted, mackeral tabby, short hair with green eyes. She seems to have littered fairly recently, but her nipples have gone down enough that she either lost the litter or weaned them already. I have my people searching the school for kittens anyway, just in case.
She is obviously part Siamese, because she does not stop talking. She is really nice and very sweet. A little desperate for attention and food, of course, but not so much that she either bites my hand or freaks out.
I still miss Billie.
Of course, she called me.
Of course, I melted into a puddle and said "Sure, bring her one over, just call Angie first and make sure its okay, 'cause I still want my lungs."
Her name is Olivia and she is a leopard-spotted, mackeral tabby, short hair with green eyes. She seems to have littered fairly recently, but her nipples have gone down enough that she either lost the litter or weaned them already. I have my people searching the school for kittens anyway, just in case.
She is obviously part Siamese, because she does not stop talking. She is really nice and very sweet. A little desperate for attention and food, of course, but not so much that she either bites my hand or freaks out.
I still miss Billie.