In case someone thought that we didn’t have enough kitties around here…
Introducing Princess PeachyO Momo Thomas. PeachyO for short. Miss Chompy pretty much won her as a super prize for doing a scary, hard, challenging thing…and doing it well.
Such a cute little prize–wouldn’t you say?
Uncle Beany has a “meh” attitude to the new kid, but OH My WORD Jiffy is ticked. She hisses and spits every time Peach comes in the room. But this little thing doesn’t care one bit. In fact, she was last seen chasing Miss Jiff into the garage.
What would a list of happiness be without a picture of my dear, sweet, silly old three legged cat…hmmmm? This sturdy fellow has had a pretty tough old life. As a matter of fact, this guy has been a fighter since he was very young–quite literally–whopping great, big, mean cats out of our yard and sometimes neighborhood, not to mention the dogs, three times his size that are sorry they ever met him. He’s come home with cuts and scrapes and even a completely broken tail one time. He’s been shot with a bebe gun more times than I care to think about–(an angry post that shall forever remain unwritten) and has several nicks in his ears and scars on his head to prove it. He was kidnapped–no, I’m not kidding–and taken nearly 50 miles away and after 9 days, found his way back to us–terrifically skinny and scarred up, but happily home. Then, last year, as you may know, he broke his back leg and was so brave about it, that we didn’t even know for a month. Eventually, he lost that leg, but sincerely–if you saw him, you’d swear he had no idea it was even gone. He’s gained weight since and his coat is thick and shiny again as if he were a youngster…but he’s not.
He has followed me around since he was a kitten and still seems to be happy enough just sitting a few inches away from me–no matter where I am. This very minute, he is laying dangerously close to the office chair I’m typing in, completely content to stay until I go upstairs. He’ll come with me, I know.
I’m pretty sure, this little kitty is the dearest, most loyal, non-judgemental friend I have ever had. I love him so much.
She’s shy and quiet and timid and apprehensive and skittish and jumpy and aloof and bored…until…
someone sits down at the computer.
Then she will force her way between whomever it is and the keyboard and just stand there…in the way. You can’t really see the screen with a cat in your face and you certainly can’t type with a furry body standing between your arms and you absolutely can’t concentrate with a kitty head nudging into your chin every 10 seconds or so.
The funny part is that she is thrilled with the whole set up. In fact, I’m quite sure that she wonders what my problem is. I can almost hear her saying in her breathy, girlie feline voice, “Oh, don’t mind me. Just keep doing whatever it was that you were doing. I’m completely comfortable.”
As you can see, this old guy is doing great–better than he’s been in years. Why, he’s running up and down the stairs, following me everywhere I go, eating like a horse, catching mice in the garden, and swatting at his little sister Jiffy–just to teach her who is still the big man around here, in case she forgot. He’s even put back on some good solid weight to substantiate the claim. Legoless, we’re calling him, which is a hearty, tough guy name…with a double meaning.
Yeah, he’s even taken to bossing me around these days. “Let me out. Let me in. Let me out and then right back in. Feed me the chicken food. Feed me the turkey this time. Now let me out again–and of course, right back in. Oh, he’s pushing his luck pulling this stuff all day long, but he nearly needs a swat when he tries it at 4 in the morning. Oh, and he’s developed a funny meow to go along with his new “I run the joint” attitude. It’s a howl of sorts. And I’d be happy to ignore it, except that it’s quite impossible at the crack of dawn. This guy’s a nut job I tell you…a twenty year old nut job.
Good thing I positively love the living daylights out of this old, silly cat.
And apparently he isn’t missing the back leg, one little bit.