As those who follow me on Facebook know, our household has recently been the subject of a small fuzzy takeover in the form of an 11 week old Siamese kitten. And by recently I mean she arrived last Thursday evening and has spent the time since then wrapping me around her itty bitty paws.
By Friday, she had earned the name Princess Buttercup, and she is as beautiful and demanding as her namesake (yes, our cats typically name themselves. This is why we have a cat named Bugger).
In the course of a week, Her Little Highness has managed to get herself out of isolation aka kitty pokey aka the dungeon aka the back bathroom, explore the whole of the downstairs area, venture into the basement at least once, steal food from the bowls of the two adult cats (to be fair, Bugger is a wuss and Baby is about as laid-back as a cat can get while still being able to breathe), figure out that the human food is more interesting than the kitty food and try to steal mine, and make more noise in a day than the two boys usually make in weeks (again, to be fair, they both stopped talking because Her Fluffiness Shani who we lost to cancer in February had no voice and she was The Boss).
She also swears. A lot. Then she looks up at me with the big blue eyes and I’m a goner.
This is so much easier on the blood pressure than all the nonsense that’s been floating around lately, so enjoy.