she’s crazy in her old age
Realistically, I may not have too many more years with my oldest. This year she’s 13 – in cat years that’s…what…80? Geesh.
In my youth she took care of me. She pet me when I was sad (for those who don’t have a cat, this is when the cat rubs his/her head against your arm/shoulder/head/foot in an effort to pet their self), she laid at my head when I was sick and she attempted to protect me from the evil doings of Sasha.
The roles seem to have reversed more often these days. I find myself finding her to hand out some pets, picking her nose because she’s getting lazy in her old age and laying beside her just to hear her purrbox go nutso.
Despite her years, she can still put a mean whoopin’ on Sasha. 🙂
I love you Peachy-girl. Happy Friday all!
love (the idea of South Carolina in three days),