All of my long-time friends know you. Some of them, in fact, remember dressing you up like a doll when you were just seven weeks old and I would pretend to rock you to sleep like a baby. You never really liked that…the spitting and hissing of your stank breath in my face gave that little factoid away. But you have always been there when no one else was. When I was broken-hearted and let down by others, you were there to drool on my hand and purr incessantly on my chest. When I had to leave you with Mom during college, I would find you asleep in my bedroom when I returned home for long weekends, waiting for me. And there again, the incessant purrs and drooling would commence.
You were so tiny when I first adopted you; fitting into the palm of my hand really says something about your size. Your poops were so small I could scoop them out of your litter box with a plastic soup spoon. While your poops are much bigger (and stinkier) these days, and you’re going on 13 years old, you’re still my baby girl.
I really appreciate you letting me take pictures of you over the years…
I know there were days when you didn’t feel pretty enough for the camera…
…and you preferred hiding out and giving me stank eye…
…but you’re a beautiful orange ball of fluff and the best ol’ girl in the world for putting up with me.
love (your furmomma),