As soon as Eddie saw Miss Margot, he barfed. I mean, barfed. It’s emotional barfing in a cat. As Miss Margot expresses Her Divine Will upon him, he barfs less and less. He’s now in the meowing piteously stage, all about the interloper who is living in the food dish, occupying the kitchen, wandering at will through the rest of the house (although she has stayed out of two of the older cats’ strongholds), moving swiftly towards the “I will walk by the interloper with my tailing casually waving from side to side’ stage. Miss Margot’s attitude is definitely, “We can all get along if you just loosen up a bit,” this will probably result in play.
Holy $hit she just climbed onto my mandolin, played a few notes and then wandered back to see me. Did I mention she’s a tortie? She does the crazy tortie stuff as well as having her visiting dignitary side. She will have to be fixed, a prospect that causes me no sadness. Her entrance into the world was by C-section. Oh, great, now she’s walking up and down on the keyboards. Is she trying to tell me something? The first time I played something for her on the mandolin she flopped on the bed and attentively watched. It was like having a cat who was somehow channeling Winston Churchill watching your performance. Unlike other cats, she does not flee the room when I play. The breeder mentioned that she loves music but I didn’t figure that could possibly be right. I’ve never met a cat who showed anything but disinterest in music.
Earlier she was killing the kitchen rugs for the nth time when she made this total ninjaclowncat move and whacked the drawer on the oven with both back feet simultaneously and quite hard, making a beautiful hang drum ringing tone which she immediately popped up to investigate. Popping up describes her method of appearing on furniture and righting herself when she wants to get mobile from any of her legion of contortionate positions. Twice now she’s climbed my knees, put her face over the top of the laptop and then leaned her two front paws over as well, presenting a LOLcat pic of some charm.
After more rug killing activities, she’s back up on the bed, investigating things. Liveblogging a new kitten is so much fun.
If somebody had told me when I was thirty that I’d ever pay for a Persian, I would have laughed no end.
