14 July, 2008

I think I should rename my kitty Cato

I am working on my office, and it has some boxes in it that belong in the kitchen. Hey, my brother worked for free, who am I to gripe about a few misplaced boxes? It is because the little hulk would grab so many boxes at once, he would just put them wherever the top of the stack was labeled.
Most of the lights are off, because I have the windows open and I am wearing just shorts and I don’t want to feel like I am on parade; semi-nude housekeeping and all that. But I can find my way around the apartment well enough in the dark already.
If you have ever seen the Pink Panther (movie, not cartoon), you might remember how Peter Sellers was always being attacked at odd moments by his sidekick. This is what my cat is doing to me. She stalks me; she’ll let me walk through a room just to attack me on the way out. And since she is almost jet black, she gets me by surprise just about every time.
She is declawed, so her attacks are nothing more than furry little flurries of smooth paws and purring, and then she runs off to another part of the apartment to await her next opportunity.
I love her moxie.

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