I killed an ivy plant in 4 months...should I really be trusted with a small animal? Yes!
After writing my last entry on the verge of sleep deprived delirium, I've decided this entry must be a bit more calm and coherent. But then I remembered that calm and coherent is NO FUN AT ALL, so boo to that idea!
Ladies and gentlemen, the impossible has happened to me as of today: I am the proud owner of a kitty cat (I think proud...a little hesitent, but probably proud could be used in this context), and look what it's doing to me already! I'm using phrases like "kitty cat". What's next? Pink frilly dresses and waiting by the phone for a boy to call?!?!
Okay, so it's really not all that dramatic. I always wanted a cat when I was a kid, but was never allowed to have one because my grandmother was in a wheelchair. How are those two things connected, you ask? Well, my dear old grandmother came complete with fake hips and osteoporosis so serious that her bones would break if she put her foot down with too much force, and thus she could only stand for short stretches at a time with the aid of whatever was around her to lean on. The thought was that if she was in one of her defiant I-can-still-stand-up-whenever-I-want spells and a cat were to rub up against her legs, she'd fall and break something else. And for a lady who managed to break her back twice without the help of any feline friend, I suppose it's a legitimate argument.
So alas, I became cold and bitter towards those snobby, standoff-ish -- yet really freaking cute -- animals for many a year, until eventually I decided I didn't really enjoy cats at all. I still don't really care for them in general; they're a bit overly independent for a household pet, and you know just by looking at them that most of them could give a shit less about you. Should I take such a lower life form's view of my existence personally? Perhaps not. On the other hand, there are quite enough uppety humans floating about that taking that kind of attitude from a furry little beast seems a little demeaning to me.
This cat's different in a lot of ways, though, although not completely different from other cats. I could tell she was smart when I saw her, and she's proving herself to be quite defiant in a manner I can get behind so far. She came with the name Sierra. Myself, I'm fully against naming animals after human names, but until she shows her true personality I can't decide what we should call her.
Any suggestions?
Ladies and gentlemen, the impossible has happened to me as of today: I am the proud owner of a kitty cat (I think proud...a little hesitent, but probably proud could be used in this context), and look what it's doing to me already! I'm using phrases like "kitty cat". What's next? Pink frilly dresses and waiting by the phone for a boy to call?!?!
Okay, so it's really not all that dramatic. I always wanted a cat when I was a kid, but was never allowed to have one because my grandmother was in a wheelchair. How are those two things connected, you ask? Well, my dear old grandmother came complete with fake hips and osteoporosis so serious that her bones would break if she put her foot down with too much force, and thus she could only stand for short stretches at a time with the aid of whatever was around her to lean on. The thought was that if she was in one of her defiant I-can-still-stand-up-whenever-I-want spells and a cat were to rub up against her legs, she'd fall and break something else. And for a lady who managed to break her back twice without the help of any feline friend, I suppose it's a legitimate argument.
So alas, I became cold and bitter towards those snobby, standoff-ish -- yet really freaking cute -- animals for many a year, until eventually I decided I didn't really enjoy cats at all. I still don't really care for them in general; they're a bit overly independent for a household pet, and you know just by looking at them that most of them could give a shit less about you. Should I take such a lower life form's view of my existence personally? Perhaps not. On the other hand, there are quite enough uppety humans floating about that taking that kind of attitude from a furry little beast seems a little demeaning to me.
This cat's different in a lot of ways, though, although not completely different from other cats. I could tell she was smart when I saw her, and she's proving herself to be quite defiant in a manner I can get behind so far. She came with the name Sierra. Myself, I'm fully against naming animals after human names, but until she shows her true personality I can't decide what we should call her.
Any suggestions?