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I need to pick my camera up. These days of kittenhood will pass so quickly.
My beautiful Baby Mook
My beautiful Baby Mook
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She is so engaging. Grabbed my hand and wiggled around my arm like a little ferret making all kind so trilling sounds. She has glued herself to me. Mook is not a holdy cat. I've tried. She air bit me in front of my nose three times in a row today. The Mook is not up for excessive fondling. She is a beside you cat. Play fetch with me cat. Worship at my feet kind of cat. And Little Mercy is a hold me cuddle me little sprite. And growing. The little collar that was too lose is now going to be close to being tight by the time the new one arrives.
What precious bundles of tortitude!
I'm one of those who sees cats as family members. Before my mother passed, she would call and inquire about the health of her "grandcat." My sons, unfortunately, see them as little better than vermin, although anyone mistreating one would get VERY short shrift. Neither can abide wanton cruelty, so we agree to disagree, and they eye-roll alot when I talk about her.
And I begin to agree that little Mercy was a special order for you.
I have one of those. I tell her she's "a pamfer inna jungle," and she looks at me like, "well, of course I am, you silly dolt." I get that look a lot. There is just something about that tortitude that gets me grinning every time! One of my friends commented on cats with attitudes, and I have to inform her, "If you don't want a cat with attitude, get a dog."
She be a panther in Tortoiseshell wrapping paper.
Isn't though? I keep telling people that Hekitty rules my house with an iron paw. They think I'm kidding. They have obviously never lived with a cat. Ever.
It's really just a matter of keeping the servants in line.