howdy! my name's David, and my cat's name is...
Cat.
i named her this because i love that classic Audrey Hepburn movie, Breakfast at Tiffany's, in which her character has adopted an orange stray and calls him by no other name than just plain Cat.
"Poor old cat. Poor slob. Poor slob without a name. The way I look at it, I don't have the right to give him one. We don't belong to each other. We just took up by the river one day."
my Cat isn't orange, tho, and she's obviously not a tom. Cat's what has been described to me as being closest to a Turkish Angora, with a bit of something else mixed in. she's black (with the faintest bit of brown) with a white underbelly and a white patch down the middle of her face. her paws are also white, but most of the rest of her legs are black. she has gorgeus golden eyes with a hint of green in them. her tail is completely black and quite bushy.
she's extremely loyal and affectionate. every day when i come home, she prances up to my feet and meows her hello's. she's light enough that i can reach down and scoop her up with one hand, and just kind plop her on my shoulder. she hangs there as i walk around the place, glad to be petted and carried.
among her more amusing habits and games:
watching the toliet water spiral down after i flush. she insists on doing this. it facinates her to no end.
when she's "keeping me company" in the loo, she likes to curl up in the sink which is directly across from the toliet. other times, she enjoys playing "attack the fingers" in the bathtub and ducks between the shower-curtain and the inner edge of the tub. her eyes get all wide and dilated and her tail bushes out, and i dangle my fingers over the edge of the tub, wiggling them and moving them about. she LOVES that game.
she likes to wait for me to step through doorways so she can ambush my ankles.
often, when i step away from her after putting out her food, she'll reach out and try to snag the material of whatever pants i'm wearing at the time, as if to say, "hey, where do ya think you're going?! this is cold!"
she sleeps with me every night. we often end up quite tangled up, with my arm curled around or under her and her face buried in the crook of my arm.
we talk often. when i'm telling her about my day, she listens intently, watching my face with every word. she then relates her day's discoveries in a series of meow's, to each of which i reply with a nod and "really... and then what happened?"
she's indoor only, and quite soft.
initially, she was brought home as a kitten by a flatmate one day. i didn't want the kitten there because i knew what would happen. she'd get into my clean clothes and shed fur all over them, knock fragile objects off the tables and desks, scratch the sofa to shreds, and leave me with no alternative but to fall madly in love with the adorable little swishy ball of fur she was.
now it's about seven years later, and i can't imagine living without her.
Cat.
i named her this because i love that classic Audrey Hepburn movie, Breakfast at Tiffany's, in which her character has adopted an orange stray and calls him by no other name than just plain Cat.
"Poor old cat. Poor slob. Poor slob without a name. The way I look at it, I don't have the right to give him one. We don't belong to each other. We just took up by the river one day."
my Cat isn't orange, tho, and she's obviously not a tom. Cat's what has been described to me as being closest to a Turkish Angora, with a bit of something else mixed in. she's black (with the faintest bit of brown) with a white underbelly and a white patch down the middle of her face. her paws are also white, but most of the rest of her legs are black. she has gorgeus golden eyes with a hint of green in them. her tail is completely black and quite bushy.
she's extremely loyal and affectionate. every day when i come home, she prances up to my feet and meows her hello's. she's light enough that i can reach down and scoop her up with one hand, and just kind plop her on my shoulder. she hangs there as i walk around the place, glad to be petted and carried.
among her more amusing habits and games:
watching the toliet water spiral down after i flush. she insists on doing this. it facinates her to no end.
when she's "keeping me company" in the loo, she likes to curl up in the sink which is directly across from the toliet. other times, she enjoys playing "attack the fingers" in the bathtub and ducks between the shower-curtain and the inner edge of the tub. her eyes get all wide and dilated and her tail bushes out, and i dangle my fingers over the edge of the tub, wiggling them and moving them about. she LOVES that game.
she likes to wait for me to step through doorways so she can ambush my ankles.
often, when i step away from her after putting out her food, she'll reach out and try to snag the material of whatever pants i'm wearing at the time, as if to say, "hey, where do ya think you're going?! this is cold!"
she sleeps with me every night. we often end up quite tangled up, with my arm curled around or under her and her face buried in the crook of my arm.
we talk often. when i'm telling her about my day, she listens intently, watching my face with every word. she then relates her day's discoveries in a series of meow's, to each of which i reply with a nod and "really... and then what happened?"
she's indoor only, and quite soft.
initially, she was brought home as a kitten by a flatmate one day. i didn't want the kitten there because i knew what would happen. she'd get into my clean clothes and shed fur all over them, knock fragile objects off the tables and desks, scratch the sofa to shreds, and leave me with no alternative but to fall madly in love with the adorable little swishy ball of fur she was.
now it's about seven years later, and i can't imagine living without her.
