It seems that there wasn’t even a competition. As prolific a writer as I am, there is absolutely no way in the world I can keep up with the charming antics of a kitten. I just stumbled upon a picture of her as a tiny small frail thing, that squeaked (because of some malady she was suffering that required droplets of medicine which she did not care for at all), and was as dumpster diva tranny hooker as you can imagine. She still is in many ways.
She has grown considerably, even if her squeaky little squawks are much stronger now, and despite her incestuous adoptive brother’s insistence on eating her yummy kitty food, by forgoing his diet old man food. (He will not rest until he has the sugah and a hovaround!) Still, she is managing to get the required nutrients to grow and flourish.
Ms. Holly Woodlawn, spooks at any slight passing of the wind, but is as precocious as any other kitten, she also is as mean as a bully on a playground, and after being too small to take on Big Daddy, she definitely holds her own & instigates quite nicely now. Mostly she is just in it for the fun. Quite to the chagrin of that other cat, she has made it her place, and he will just have to be damned. She loves to sprawl out beside me, in a manner more befitting a dog, Holly puts her small smooth body down the length of my trunk or my leg. Then bolts if I roll over or otherwise threaten her spot.
She has the most annoying trait of trying to get anything off a table or a counter, and quite brazenly will do it even if I am staring right at her. This cat is most definitely a bad shoplifter. Apparently she prefers water from a toilet too, which is a big NO-NO in this house, and so it is like I live with a girl now and have to close the toilet to keep her from falling into, and down the rabbit hole. If I just came out of there and she is heading in – I bolt back to make sure the coast is clear.
What charms me most about her is the ways in which she will splay herself, or contort herself as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Definitely a big change from Daddy’s sphinxlike posture, his “I must lay in this spot, and in this way, so please don’t move me” attitude. While she often bolts at the sight of me, makes a playground under my bed with discarded toys everywhere – she is a joy!
We had only one brief moment – when honestly I thought she was going to have to live somewhere else – that was when she went into her first and last heat, just three days after the doc predicted she might, and I couldn’t sleep for a week, until she was fixed. I’m not a person you disturb during his slumber anymore than you should rap on Dracul’s coffin – unless you plan to be bled dry. The sight of my two cats copulating scarred me as well and therapy is definitely helping.
While I can no longer hold her in my palm, indeed I can’t hold her at all – she doesn’t like – but she will come to me as she sees fit, and grace me with her majesty. That strangely is enough for me. For I’ll always hold her in my heart.
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